


Can’t Help Falling In Love

by LulaIsAKitten



Series: Octavia Street musings [2]
Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: And I took some of it out, F/M, Falling In Love, I cried over bits of this, I’m gonna make you all fall in love with Nick too, Smut, So much smut, Which isn’t very me, and a whole barrel of angst, and much fluff, look I went all Hobbes with the tags ;), there really is a lot of smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-05-20 08:21:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 31,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19372873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LulaIsAKitten/pseuds/LulaIsAKitten
Summary: Christmas 1992 to Summer 1993. Nick and Ilsa’s courtship.





	1. London

**Author's Note:**

> This is set immediately after The Party (Part 1 of the Octavia Street Musings) - you don’t have to have read that, but it sets the scene.
> 
> My ongoing attempt to write the whole Nick and Ilsa story - we’re right back at their first meeting, eighteen years before the books start.

Cormoran strolled out of the sixth form college block and found himself in a swarm of kids from the main secondary part of the school over the road. They all looked so young. It seemed amazing that he’d been one of them until a couple of years ago, and now he was in his final year before uni.

His feet dragged a little. He was highly unwilling to go back to the bedsit he shared with his mother and her partner. The atmosphere had been particularly toxic, both literally and figuratively, since his and Nick’s 18th birthday party the previous weekend. Whittaker had taken centre stage as usual, had to be the focus of attention, taking over the microphone from the band they’d hired and crooning a God-awful ballad he’d penned to Leda.

Something deep within Cormoran had snapped that night. He couldn’t wait to get away now, already withdrawing mentally and emotionally. His mother, sensing the change, alternately flapped around him, being overattentive, or smoked herself into stoned silence with her partner. Whittaker himself hovered between a smug sense of having won some kind of tug-of-war, though uncertain as to exactly how, and an innate nervousness of his partner’s huge son with his general air of menace. He knew full well that only Cormoran’s respect for his mother kept his fists at his sides. The two skirted one another carefully, barely making eye contact.

“Oggy!” A cheerful voice behind him broke into his reverie, and he turned, a grin on his face. Nick was his best mate in London, a kindred spirit with the same sly sense of humour and a generally positive, laid-back outlook on the world that Cormoran found soothing against the backdrop of tensions back at the bedsit. Nick’s home, small and crowded but warm and welcoming, had provided a frequent refuge over the last year when things with Whittaker had got too heated. He found himself longing suddenly for a quiet evening at his friend’s and a plateful of Nick’s mum’s home-cooked dinner.

“What’s up?” he asked.

Nick shrugged. “Not much. You busy?”

“Nah.”

“Fancy a sneaky pint?”

Cormoran dug in his pockets to see how much change he had. Nick waved him away. “Swap you a pint for a few fags,” he said, and Cormoran laughed. “Deal.”

They strolled through the streets, heading vaguely in the direction of the ramshackle block where Cormoran lived. He supposed that a dinner and some respite hours at Nick’s were out of the question, then. He knew he could ask, but he was reluctant. There were occasions when he had to, when Leda was sleeping the sleep of the over-indulged and Whittaker’s nasty side crept out, when Cormoran had to allow himself to be flung out on his ear or risk making a big scene and waking his mother. She’d stood referee to their fights for so long, but now she was pregnant Whittaker somehow had the upper hand, and he knew it. Leda’s son would endure almost anything rather than add to her stresses. On those occasions, he sometimes had to turn up quite late at Nick’s, and on one occasion when Nick wasn’t actually even there, or face sleeping on the streets. Nick’s mum took him in without question or comment every time, and somehow always managed to produce a huge plate of “leftovers”. He was reluctant to ask when it wasn’t an emergency.

They ducked in to the Fiddler pub, which was almost empty in the late afternoon, with its dark wood, tired decor and sticky tables. Nick bought two pints of the cheapest beer and they settled themselves at a table by the wall. The flocked wallpaper was stained with a thousand aged beer splashes. Cormoran vaguely wondered in what decade the place had last been redecorated.

He grabbed an ashtray from the next table and took out his cigarettes. They lit one each and sat in companionable quiet for a moment.

“Good party on Saturday,” Nick said. “Apart from the impromptu singing.”

Cormoran grunted. “Twat,” he muttered. “But, yeah. Good party.” He cast his friend a sly glance. “You seemed to enjoy yourself.”

Nick flushed. “I did,” he said. He’d spent the last part of the evening snogging a girl he’d met, one of Cormoran’s old school friends from Cornwall who’d come up to London for the party. He hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind since. “How was the rest of your night?”

Cormoran nodded. “Yeah, good,” he said. “Me and Dave clubbed together and bought some whisky, went and sat on one of the benches in the cemetery.” He chortled. “Dave puked in the hedge.”

Nick laughed. “Why does that not surprise me, if he was trying to keep up with you?”

“Yeah, it was the cigarette that did it. He doesn’t smoke. Never seen anyone go so green so fast. Lightweight.”

Nick shook his head. “He should have known what he was in for.”

Cormoran nodded cheerfully. “So, you and Ilsa hit it off.” He’d not missed Nick’s blush, and was intrigued. They’d ribbed one another over various conquests at discos and parties before, but he’d never seen Nick look so ruffled at the mention of a girl he’d snogged.

Nick dropped his gaze, fiddling with the edge of his beer mat. “Yeah, we did,” he said. He’d been utterly taken with Cormoran’s friend from the moment he laid eyes on her, shorter with soft curves, blue-green eyes sparkling and animated behind her glasses, blonde hair glinting gently in the pub lights. He’d been thrilled to find her receptive to his attentions, hanging on his every word, moulding herself against him when they danced in a way that still sent hot shivers though him days later, kissing him back eagerly on the street outside.

“And?”

“And what?”

“Come off it. I’ve never seen you look like that over a girl.”

Nick flushed again. How to explain what set this girl apart from any other? He remembered the curve of her slightly fuller lower lip that he couldn’t stop glancing at, the shy looks she shot him that made his heart skip, the way her top clung to her breasts and he’d tried not to notice. Kissing her had stirred something primal deep within him, something that wanted to possess and explore and own, and he’d had to force himself to be gentlemanly. As it was, they had kissed and kissed until Cormoran had interrupted them, and it still hadn’t been enough. He couldn’t stop thinking about her.

“Yeah,” he said again, inadequately.

Cormoran snorted. Discomfited, Nick glared at him. Cormoran grinned. “What can I say, mate? She’s special, I know that.”

Nick looked at him, uncertain suddenly. “Have you ever...?”

“God, no.” Cormoran shook his head. “No way. I’ve known her since we were six. I’d be just as likely to snog Lucy.” Lucy was his younger sister. Horrified and repulsed by Jeff Whittaker, the latest in a long line of unsuitable and unsavoury men her mother had brought home, she’d finally caved and begged their aunt and uncle in Cornwall to take her in permanently. She lived down there now, across the village from Ilsa. Only a lingering desire to protect his mother and, now, an imminent chance to leave under his own steam, had kept Cormoran from following.

Nick nodded, relieved. Bold suddenly, he asked, “Have you got her number?”

Cormoran sat back, grinning. “Somewhere, yeah. I’d have to dig it out. You want it?”

Nick grinned too. “Yeah, I think I do.”

“And how’s that going to work? It’s four hours on the train, mate. And that’s once you get to Paddington. It’s a long haul.”

Nick shrugged. Cormoran looked at him shrewdly and offered him another cigarette.

“Herbert, you’re smitten,” he said, and grinned wickedly when his friend blushed again. He was quite enjoying making him squirm. Seeing him this off-balance over a girl was new.

Nick took a cigarette and lit it, not looking at him, and Cormoran took pity on him and stopped the teasing.

“I’m going down the station tomorrow to book my ticket back for the holidays,” he said. “You could come with me for a few days. Ted and Joan wouldn’t mind.”

“She did actually invite me to stay at hers,” Nick said. “I just—”

“What?”

Nick sighed. He wasn’t sure how to explain his doubts. “You make it sound idyllic down there,” he said. “I’ve never been. It sounds so...posh, all nice houses and Agas and holiday homes.” He couldn’t quite voice his real fear, that the nice middle-class girl he’d met couldn’t possibly really want the attentions of a guy from a rough East London comprehensive whose dad drove a cab and mum cut hair part-time at a local salon. Ilsa’s dad was probably a banker or something.

Cormoran was watching him shrewdly again, smoking his own cigarette. “It is a bit like that, in places,” he said. “But they’re all normal people with normal jobs. They’re not snobs.”

“I know, but...” Nick trailed off.

Cormoran shook his head. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said. “You’re perfectly good enough for her, and her for you. I like you both, and I’m an excellent judge of character!”

Nick laughed. Their pints were finished now, but Cormoran was making no move to leave. He knew things weren’t great at home for his friend.

“Tell you what, I’ll do you a deal,” he said. “Let’s go to yours and you can dig out that number, and then come back to mine for tea? Mum’s doing a chilli tonight, she said.”

He didn’t miss the surge of relief that crossed Cormoran’s face. “Good plan,” he said cheerfully. “That sounds like an excellent swap.”

Laughing, the two friends stood, plonked their empty pint glasses on the bar and set off out of the pub and up the street, chatting.

No more was said about Ilsa. Nick kept the conversation light, but his heart skipped whenever he thought about her. He was surprised to realise how nervous he was at the thought of making the phone call. Maybe she had only meant to be polite with the invitation, and would be horrified if he tried to follow through. Only one way to find out, if he was brave enough.

 


	2. Cornwall

Ilsa lay on her bed and stared at the ceiling, her mind drifting, butterflies in her stomach, thinking about Nick again.

She’d tried very hard to convince herself to be cautious, not to get carried away. Yes, they’d had a magical evening, but it had been one evening. Yes, he’d asked to see her again, but maybe that was just in the heat of the moment. Yes, she’d invited him to come and visit at the end of term, but it was hundreds of miles. Surely he wouldn’t really be considering it.

She sighed, and replayed the evening in her head yet again. It was only a few days ago. She’d been so excited to visit London, to see Cormoran for his birthday, to go to a proper party in a pub in the capital. Meeting someone hadn’t been on the agenda, hadn’t crossed her mind, but she’d been smitten the moment she’d laid eyes on Cormoran’s tall, handsome friend with his floppy blond hair and hazel eyes, and he’d appeared to be just as keen to get to know her. They’d ended the evening kissing and kissing one another on the street outside the pub, until eventually Uncle Ted and Aunt Joan (who were really Cormoran and Lucy’s aunt and uncle) had called the evening to an end and taken her and Lucy back to their hotel. The next day had been filled with planned trips and seeing Cormoran again; there had been no time to see Nick. But she’d invited him to come and visit, and he’d said yes.

Downstairs, the phone rang, pulling her from her reverie. Ilsa grinned at the ceiling. It was probably Katy. She’d asked Ilsa at lunch break in the sixth form common room how the weekend trip had gone, and Ilsa, bubbling over with excitement, had told her all about the guy she’d met and snogged, how she’d never met anyone like him, never felt like that kissing anyone before. Katy had urged caution - it was a snog at a party 250 miles away, the chances of it turning into anything more were slim - and Ilsa knew she was right. But she had probably thought of more questions and was ringing up to gossip.

“Ilsa!” her mum called up the stairs. “Phone.”

Ilsa jumped up and opened her door, clattering down the stairs to where the phone sat on its little table in the hall, the receiver laid next to it. She tugged the lounge door closed so that her brother Tom wouldn’t hear any juicy details, and picked up the phone. “Hello?”

“Ilsa?” The deep voice on the other end of the line made her heart leap into her throat and her knees wobble. “It’s Nick. From the party.”

For a moment Ilsa couldn’t speak, frozen, delighted. “Hi,” she managed at last, and her voice sounded high and breathy. Trembling, she sat down on the seat next to the phone.

“Hi,” he replied, and she could hear the smile in his voice. “How are you?”

Heart hammering, Ilsa nodded, then realised he couldn’t see her. _Ridiculous._ “Good, thanks, you?”

“Yeah, I’m good too. I asked Og— Cormoran for your number, I hope you don’t mind.”

Ilsa laughed a little. “I’m surprised he could remember it.”

Nick laughed too. “He had to go and hunt for it and get back to me,” he said. Ilsa’s heart thrilled to the sound of his amusement. He’d rung her. And she’d made him laugh. And they were getting along. She realised she was clutching the phone to her ear with both hands, and willed herself to relax a little.

“I—” Nick hesitated just a little. “I had a really good time on Saturday night. It was lovely to meet you.”

Blushing, Ilsa looked around. She was pretty sure no one was listening. “Me too,” she murmured into the phone. “I had a great evening.”

“How was your journey home?”

Ilsa smiled, remembering. Dave Polworth, the friend she had travelled to London and back with, had ribbed her pretty hard about “having pulled”, as he’d put it, the previous evening, but had eventually lapsed into silence and dozed, nursing a considerable hangover. Ilsa understood the party had got quite lively after she’d left, and that Cormoran and Dave had shared a half-bottle of whisky afterwards.

“Yeah, good,” she said. “I think Dave was pretty hungover.”

Nick laughed. “That often happens when you go drinking with Oggy,” he said cheerfully. Ilsa laughed too.

There was a slight pause. Ilsa panicked a little, wondering what to say. She still couldn’t quite believe she was talking to him, that he’d gone to the effort to get her number and ring her up. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach.

“Look—” Nick hesitated again, then ploughed on. “The reason I’m ringing is, Og— Cormoran’s going down to the station tomorrow to book his ticket down at the end of term, and—” Ilsa heard him take a deep breath. “Well, you’d suggested I might be able to visit? I could book a ticket too. If you’d like me to?”

Ilsa had to resist the urge to leap up and dance round the hallway. She swallowed hard. “That would be lovely,” she said softly.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to be pushy—”

“I’d love to see you. Please come,” Ilsa said warmly, and was rewarded with a soft chuckle.

“I’d love to see you, too,” he said. “So I think we’re coming down on the Saturday, the 19th. When should I book to go back?”

“Hang on, let me ask Mum,” Ilsa said. “Back in a minute.” She put the receiver back down next to the phone and scurried to the kitchen, her eyes shining.

Her mother’s eyes twinkled at her. “I take it that’s the famous Nick?” she said, smiling. Ilsa had told her mum all about her evening. Most of it. There wasn’t much use trying to keep it a secret, she knew Joan would tell her anyway.

Ilsa nodded. “Can he come and stay a few days at the end of term?”

Her mum’s smile widened. “Of course. It would be nice to meet him,” she said.

“How long can he stay? He’s coming on the Saturday, the 19th,” Ilsa said. “It’s a long way,” she added, hoping that would extend the visit.

“He’ll probably have to go back on the 23rd,” her mother replied, thinking. “The trains will be pretty booked up on Christmas Eve, and Granny and Grandad are arriving late on the 23rd anyway, so we’d have to put him on the sofa or something if he was still here. But that’s four nights, long enough for a first visit?”

Ilsa nodded. “Thanks, Mum,” she said, and dashed back to the hall. Her mother watched her go, smiling fondly.

“Nick?”

“I’m still here.”

“Mum said the 23rd for you to go back,” she said. “Family start arriving for Christmas after that. Is that okay?”

“That’s great, Mum’ll want me back here by then anyway,” he said. “So I’ll get the trains booked, and ring you again in a few days?”

“Great,” Ilsa said.

“Okay,” Nick replied. “Well, then. I’ll, er...speak to you in a couple of days, and see you in a couple of weeks.”

“Great,” Ilsa said again. On impulse she suddenly added, “I’m really looking forward to seeing you again.”

“Me too,” he said at once, and his voice was warm. “Speak to you soon.”

“Bye,” Ilsa said reluctantly.

“Bye,” he replied, and put the phone down.

Ilsa replaced the receiver and sat very, very still for a moment, afraid she might burst with excitement if she moved.

“Mum?” she called. “Can I ring Katy?”

Her mother’s laughter floated through from the kitchen. “I wonder why!” She called back. “Of course you can.”

Ilsa snatched the phone back up and dialled her friend’s number.

...

It was several days before Nick called again. Katy asked her eagerly every morning at registration, and every day Ilsa had to say that no, he hadn’t called back. She had no way to get in touch with him herself, having forgotten to ask for his number. She couldn’t even get hold of Cormoran to ask for it like Nick had asked him for hers, because he lived a phone-free existence, Leda never staying anywhere long enough or having enough money to think about getting a telephone connection.

Ilsa jumped every time the phone rang, but it was never for her, or when it was, it was Katy. She was beginning to give up hope. Surely he couldn’t have changed his mind? Maybe he’d seen how expensive the trains were and realised this wasn’t sustainable. Ilsa tried not to overthink things, but the days slid by and hope ebbed.

So she was almost shocked when her mum pounced on her as she got back from a slow stroll home from the bus stop, chatting to Katy all the way.

“Ilsa,” her mum called, and she hastened up the path to the back door. Her mum grinned and handed her a piece of paper with a London number on it and some train times.

“You just missed him,” she said. “He’s booked his train, he and Cormoran will be here mid afternoon on the 19th.”

Ilsa’s heart skipped with joy. “Can I... Did he want me to ring him back?” she asked tentatively.

Her mother smiled fondly. “He didn’t say so, but he sounded ever so disappointed that you weren’t here,” she said. “Nice lad, told me all about the plans and thanked me for letting him come and visit.”

Ilsa hesitated, torn. Her mum laughed. “I think you should ring him back,” she said warmly. “You only just missed him.”

Her heart fluttering, Ilsa nodded and went through to the hall. Her dad was at work, Tom had gone to Jake’s for a bit and her mum tactfully announced a lack of milk and said she was popping to the shop.

Trembling, Ilsa dialled the number on the piece of paper.

He answered on the second ring, and she knew it was him from the way her heart lurched at the sound of his voice.

“Nick?”

“Hi,” he said warmly, and she could hear the grin, the delight, in his voice. She leaned back against the wall and closed her eyes, remembering his floppy blond hair and warm hazel gaze. She longed to see him again.

“Sorry I missed you.”

“No worries. I rang as soon as I got in, there’s no one here,” he said, and chuckled. “Our phone isn’t very private.”

“No, nor ours,” Ilsa agreed. “How are you?”

“Yeah, good, thanks,” he said. “I booked my train.”

Ilsa’s stomach lurched again with happiness. “Mum said.”

“I’m looking forward to seeing you,” he said. “I— Ah, damn, here’s Mum back with my kid brother from school.”

Ilsa could hear high, excited chattering in the background. “He sounds little.”

“He is,” Nick said. “He’s only eight.”

“Wow.” Ilsa couldn’t imagine having such a young sibling. Her brother Tom was fifteen and grumpy.

“Yeah,” Nick said. He lowered his voice. “The family joke is he was mum and dad’s little surprise. Me and Hannah were ten and eight when he was born.”

Ilsa laughed. “I bet he gets spoiled rotten.”

“Yup,” Nick said cheerfully, and the fondness in his voice warmed her heart.

“What’s his name?”

“Daniel. But he gets called Danny, Daniel Spaniel, Dan Span— Yes, mate, I’m talking about you.”

There was a short pause. “I’m talking to my friend Ilsa,” she heard Nick tell his little brother. “No, you don’t know her. You haven’t met her. Well, maybe one day. She lives quite far away. Hang on, mate.”

His voice came back on the line. “I’m going to have to go,” he said reluctantly. “Sorry. It’s a madhouse here once everyone’s home. I’ll see you in...what, eight days?”

Ilsa’s heart skipped again. “I’ll meet your train,” she promised.

“I’ll look forward to it,” he murmured, a little husky suddenly. “Bye.”

“Bye,” Ilsa said, and then he was gone.

She put the phone down, sighed and gazed at the wall, excitement fizzing in her veins.

 


	3. London

“All my life living in London, and I’ve never been to Paddington,” Nick said. “Are you quite sure ten o’clock isn’t just the tiniest bit early for a pint?”

Cormoran grinned. “Trust me, mate, it’ll help you sleep,” he said. “It’s a bloody long way.”

Nick looked down at his beer. He doubted several pints would make him sleep the journey away, let alone only one. He’d hardly slept the previous night, unable to decide if he was excited or nervous, and irritated with himself for losing his usual cool. _It doesn’t matter,_ he’d told himself sternly, staring at the ceiling. _If you don’t get along or she doesn’t want you there, you’ll just have a weekend with Oggy and go home. Stop being ridiculous._ But then he would remember her shy smile, the feel of her soft lips against his, and he knew he’d be gutted if she didn’t want to see him again.

The two friends were sat in the station bar. They had arrived a little early, and the train was slightly delayed. Their rucksacks rested on the floor at their feet. The long journey to St Austell lay ahead of them.

“So you’ve really never been west of London?” Cormoran sounded sceptical.

Nick shrugged. “We went to north Wales once on holiday, but we went via Birmingham,” he said. “Mostly when we’ve been to the coast, we went east or south. Essex, Kent.”

“You’ll love the South West. It’s got its own beauty. We go right by Dartmoor.”

Nick nodded and took another drink of his pint. Nerves churned his stomach a little. He’d be seeing her again in a little over four hours, and then he’d know. He’d know if this was a crazy venture based on one evening that he’d read way too much into, or something mutual, a connection he’d never felt with anyone else before. He’d resisted the temptation, the urge to ring her in the last eight days just to hear the sound of her voice again. He didn’t want to seem like some stalker and scare her off.

Cormoran looked at him with slightly narrowed eyes, but didn’t say anything, for which Nick was grateful. They drank their pints and made small talk about Christmas plans, and then shouldered their rucksacks and made their way to the platform.

The station was busy, the trains filled with people heading home for the holidays. The young men had booked the cheapest tickets they could get, and didn’t have seat reservations. They ended up standing, and eventually sitting on the floor, in the space between carriages. “It’ll be quieter after Exeter,” Cormoran promised.

“So, any plans while we’re down there?” Nick asked once they’d settled themselves on the carpet.

Cormoran shot him a wicked look that made him flush slightly, but shrugged. “Dunno,” he said. “We usually get a gang together for New Year’s Eve on the beach, but maybe we could do it this weekend too, might be fun. Polworth will presumably be about, and the rest of the gang. If you’re free.”

Nick shifted a little, getting more comfortable on the hard floor. “Does Ilsa usually go?”

“Oh, yeah, core member of the gang.”

“Then I guess I’ll see you there.”

Cormoran grinned. “She might have other plans for you.”

Nick snorted a laugh, hoping his face didn’t give away how much he hoped that was true, and he didn’t just end up spending an awkward weekend hanging out with a girl he’d met once and all her friends. He barely knew anything about her.

“So what’s she like? Really like?” he asked suddenly. “Like, what does she like to do? Should I invite her to the cinema? Take her out for a meal?” He glared at his friend, who was chortling next to him. “What?”

“Oh, mate, this is the country,” Cormoran said. “Unless you’re planning on hiring a car or spending a fortune on taxis, you’re stuck in the village. You could do cinema in the afternoon if you get the bus to town. In the evening, it’s pool or darts in the pub. Dinner options, you’ve got pub grub or the chippy. Or we go hang out by the old boathouse, sometimes light a fire on the beach if it’s not too windy. There isn’t a pub on every street like in London.”

“What do you do for entertainment, then?”

Cormoran gave him an outrageous wink. “Make our own.”

Nick laughed. “Seriously, though,” he pressed. “I don’t really know her. What’s she like?”

Cormoran thought for a moment, his head on one side. “Caring. Empathetic. Shy, but a real laugh when you get to know her. Dry sense of humour. Does that answer the question? You can ask her the details yourself.”

Nick nodded, but wasn’t sure he felt any the wiser. He wanted to know everything about her, what made her laugh, what made her smile. He sighed a little.

Cormoran shot his friend a sideways look but didn’t say anything. It almost seemed like Nick was nervous, not a reaction he’d seen from him around a girl before. He had such an easygoing demeanour, was so good at small talk, he never seemed nervous chatting someone up.

Cormoran sighed and leaned back against the wall. Still three hours to go. Possibly time for a tactical doze to pass some of the time. He closed his eyes and ignored his friend shifting restlessly across the aisle.

...

Ilsa and Lucy stood on the platform at St Austell station as the train pulled in, both equally excited but for very different reasons. Lucy was looking forward to spending the holidays with her brother Cormoran, and Ilsa was waiting to see Nick. Her heart was fluttering with nerves. It was over a week since they’d spoken. She hadn’t dared ring him again in case he told her he’d changed his mind and wasn’t coming.

The train stopped and people alighted. The girls spotted Cormoran almost at once. At six foot three he towered over everyone else. He grinned and waved. Then Ilsa spotted Nick and her heart lurched. He was even more handsome than she remembered, and suddenly she felt a little tug of despair. How could such a good-looking, cool Londoner fancy her, a bespectacled country girl?

The young men approached and swept the girls into hugs. Cormoran was delighted to see his little sister, who clung to him, and Nick’s hug for Ilsa was warm and lingering. She squeezed him tightly, remembering the feel of him, the smell of him, all over again.

All too soon he pulled back, and then Ilsa found herself swept into a bear hug by her old friend, while Nick greeted Lucy and kissed her on the cheek.

Chattering excitedly, the four youngsters drifted out to the car park where Ilsa’s dad and Cormoran and Lucy’s aunt were waiting in their cars. They said their goodbyes, promising to meet up the next day and spend some time together, and then Ilsa and Nick were climbing into the back of her dad’s car and she was introducing him to her dad, a little shy suddenly. Nick answered her father’s questions about his A levels and his place at medical school, and Ilsa sat and listened and stole glances across at him, this tall, handsome young man who had come all the way down from London to meet her on the back of one evening spent together. She was captivated by him anew, and terrified he would find her boring and change his mind about her.

He glanced across at her and grinned, and her heart flipped in her chest. He was so good-looking. She suddenly found herself remembering kissing him, and longing to do so again. As though he’d read her mind, his eyes flickered to her mouth then back to hers, and Ilsa drew a shaky breath.

The car pulled up outside the cottage at the bottom of the village, and soon they were in the kitchen and Nick was being greeted warmly by Ilsa’s mum.

“I’m making shepherd’s pie, I hope you like that, Nick,” her mum said, and Nick grinned his charming grin. “One of my favourites,” he said.

Ilsa’s mum smiled at him. “Great,” she said. “Ilsa, why don’t you take Nick upstairs, show him the spare room and the bathroom and so on? It’ll be a couple of hours until tea.” Ilsa nodded.

Ilsa’s mum had made up the spare room for Nick, and Ilsa led him up the stairs. She was nervous again suddenly, trembling a little, not sure how to behave around him - it didn’t seem possible that he could be genuinely interested in her, and yet here he was in Cornwall. Perhaps he just wanted to come and spend a few days hanging out with Cormoran.

All doubts were dispelled as soon as they entered the spare room, though. He pulled her into his arms as soon as the door was pushed to and hugged her tightly, wrapping his arms around her.

“I can’t believe how much I missed you when I only met you once,” he murmured into her hair. “It’s so good to see you again.”

Smiling, Ilsa hugged him back, nuzzling her face into his shirt. “Ditto to all that,” she said. She felt slightly less silly for how much she’d longed to see him again, how she’d replayed that magical evening in London in her head over and over.

Nick drew back and looked down at her as Ilsa raised her face towards his. “May I kiss you?” he asked huskily, and she nodded shyly.

He captured her lips with his, and Ilsa was transported back to their first kiss, the feel and taste of him filling her senses. She kissed him back eagerly. His mouth opened over hers and she pressed closer, tongues twining, kissing and kissing until they were both a little breathless.

Eventually Nick pulled back again and smiled down at her. “I was worried I’d overplayed in my head how good kissing you feels, but I hadn’t,” he said a little hoarsely, and Ilsa grinned and nodded. “Me too.”

He kissed her again, drew back a little, and then with a slight groan he leaned down and kissed her yet again, his tongue seeking hers, stroking across it. Ilsa made a little sound of pleasure in the back of her throat as he pressed closer, deepening the kiss, but then he drew back again reluctantly. “We’d better head back downstairs before we’re missed,” he muttered.

Reluctant too, Ilsa nodded. She could have snogged him all afternoon.

Dinner went well. Nick was a good conversationalist and even managed to draw more than the odd grunt from Tom, and Ilsa could see her parents were impressed. Afterwards they helped with the dishes, and then Ilsa’s dad declared an intention to wander up to the pub and see if Ted or his friend Keith were about. Ilsa’s mum had tuned the kitchen radio to a drama she wanted to hear, so Ilsa and Nick went through to the lounge.

They put the television on and sat on the sofa, but Nick didn’t seem interested in watching it. He took her hand where she sat next to him and half turned to face her, smiling softly.

“So I was thinking,” he said.

“What?”

“Well, I’ve only met you once,” he said, grinning. “I hardly know you, and that doesn’t seem right. I quizzed Oggy a bit,” he admitted, “but he told me to ask you myself. So, have you always lived here? I want to know everything. Favourite colour, favourite TV show, middle name, future dreams, odd facts, the lot.”

Ilsa laughed. “Wow. Okay, um... Yes, I’ve lived in Cornwall all my life. My favourite colour is probably blue, to wear. It goes with my colouring. I’m a bit of a soap addict, I never miss Home and Away or Neighbours. My middle name is Caitlin. I want to do law. Um... and I can do a Rubik cube, but not very fast. Your turn!”

He grinned again. “Right. Favourite colour, probably also blue to wear, or grey. But in a football team it’s got to be Spurs white.” He winked. “I actually don’t watch a huge amount of telly but I do like films. My middle name is James. I’m left-handed. And I’m going to med school, fingers crossed, just need to get the grades.”

“What kind of doctor do you want to be?”

Nick shrugged. “Not sure yet,” he said. “I might work in emergency medicine. I don’t really want to do research, I want to interact with patients. But I don’t think general practice either. We have to do a turn at everything as part of the training, so I’ll probably decide as I go.”

Ilsa nodded. “Where are you going to uni?”

“Imperial. You?”

“I’ve got offers from Edinburgh and LSE, and I haven’t heard back from York yet. So I don’t know. I’ll have to decide soon. Edinburgh looks like the best course, but it’s so far. I’d never be able to come home during term time.” Ilsa felt sad for a moment. She was quite nervous about the thought of going to university and being so far from home for so long.

Nick squeezed her hand. “You’ll be grand,” he said. “You made it all the way to London!”

Ilsa laughed again, and then trailed off as he gazed at her, his hazel eyes fixed on hers. Her heart fluttered.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he murmured, and leaned forward and kissed her.

Ilsa slid her arms around his neck and melted into the kiss. It was slow and unhurried, his tongue exploring her mouth gently, making her tremble. She’d never felt like this with anyone else she’d kissed, so stormy and hot inside. She’d always found snogging perfectly pleasant, but no more. Now her insides felt liquid, molten hot, and she wanted more and more of him.

Tom wandered into the room, made a protesting sound of disgust and walked out again. Ilsa broke free of the kiss and giggled, and buried her face in Nick’s neck. He smelled amazing, warm and a little musky, and she found herself nuzzling closer, enjoying the hitch in his breathing as she pressed her face to his skin.

Nick drew back gently and took her hand in his again, tangling their fingers together. “So, what is there to do in Cornwall at the weekend right before Christmas?” he asked.

They passed a pleasant evening chatting and occasionally snogging. Bold, Ilsa initiated a few kisses and her heart thrilled to his reaction to her every time. She asked him loads of questions and tried to memorise the answers. She asked all about his family in London, and hoped and hoped that this weekend would go well enough that he’d want to see her again, that she might go up and visit.

All too soon the evening was over and Nick was yawning, tired from his long journey. Ilsa’s dad came back from the pub and the youngsters retired upstairs. They whispered good night at the door of the spare room, and Nick, grinning, stole another kiss, swift but with an intent that made Ilsa’s heart skip again, and then she was in her room and climbing into bed, her heart singing with happiness as she tried to remember every little detail about the evening and about Nick, storing up precious memories.

 


	4. Cornwall

Hand in hand, Nick and Ilsa strolled down towards the beach. Nick carried the bag containing a few beers, a couple of bottles of cider for Ilsa, a small disposable barbecue and some sausages to cook and rolls to make them into hot dogs. It was dark already, but when they’d spoken to Cormoran on the phone earlier, he’d told them he’d been on a recce to the beach and there was plenty of driftwood lying around to build a small fire. Lighting it would be another matter, but he was going to bring a can of lighter fluid and a couple of firelighters and hope for the best. He and Ilsa had rounded up the usual gang.

Nick was looking forward to the evening. He squeezed Ilsa’s hand a little, and she grinned up at him. She held a battery powered lantern in her other hand.

The visit couldn’t have been going better as far as Nick was concerned. The shy delight on her face as he’d approached her on the station platform had given him a surge of hope. When he’d pulled her into his arms in the spare room, he’d breathed the scent of her hair, new and familiar all at once, and thrilled to the feel of her pressing herself against him. She was even more beautiful than he’d remembered, soft and curving, her eyes sparkling whenever they caught his. The evening had been magical, filled with chat and snogging, and they got along just as well as he’d remembered.

Today they had explored the village, bought ice creams to eat whilst strolling on the beach, and borrowed Ilsa’s mum’s car to go shopping for tonight’s supplies. Relaxing into his company, Ilsa had chattered and giggled, and when he’d taken her hand she’d squeezed his fingers affectionately. They’d sat on some rocks at the back of the beach, admired the grey, stormy sea, chatted and kissed for a while. She tasted of fresh air and sea salt and ice cream. She hung on his every word, laughed at his jokes, shivered under his kisses. His heart fizzed with happiness.

“So what’s the plan?” he asked.

“The usual,” Ilsa said. “The idiot guys keep pouring lighter fuel on the bonfire till they get it lit, and then we barbecue and eat and drink and huddle round the fire for warmth. Someone usually brings a cassette player and we put some music on. It’s good fun.”

She grinned up at him, cheeky suddenly. “And if we want some privacy, there’s the old boathouse just nearby. Unless someone else gets there first.”

Nick winked at her, and she blushed but held his gaze, still grinning.

The moment was broken by a boisterous shout from behind them. They turned to see Cormoran and Lucy catching them up, carrying more food and torches.

The four exchanged greetings. Cormoran glanced down at Nick and Ilsa’s entwined hands and grinned fondly. “All set?”

Ilsa nodded. “Got food, booze. Who else is coming?”

“The usual gang. Dave, Gavin, Becca, Liz. Is Katy coming?”

Ilsa nodded. “She’s desperate to meet Nick,” she said, grinning. “My best friend,” she added in answer to Nick’s questioning look. “She’s heard all about you.”

There was another shout from further up the road, and a small knot of young people approached, led by Dave Polworth. “Diddy!” he exclaimed as he caught up to them, and shook Cormoran’s hand. He nodded to Ilsa and Lucy, and then his eyebrows raised as he caught sight of Nick.

“Why am I not surprised to see you again?” he asked with a grin as they shook hands. “Hi.” He gave Ilsa a sly wink, and she grinned at him.

Introductions were made, and the gang finally made it to the beach and set themselves up. They gathered up driftwood. An old spade was retrieved from the ramshackle boathouse and a fire pit dug. Cormoran produced the firelighters and lighter fluid. After a considerable amount of arguing and teasing, the young men got the fire built and started trying to light it.

Ilsa looked up from unwrapping the barbecue she and Nick had bought, and shouted at Cormoran for standing slopping lighter fuel over the little bonfire with a lit cigarette dangling from his other hand. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?” she demanded.

Cormoran grinned at her. “I don’t think half a can of lighter fluid is enough to kill me,” he said cheerfully.

“You could set fire to your clothes, you’d burn really badly,” she pointed out.

He laughed. “God, yeah, you’re right. If only there were some water handy,” he teased, nodding his head in the direction of the sea.

“Have it your way,” she grumbled good-naturedly. “But don’t expect me to come to your rescue.” He pulled a cheeky face at her and she rolled her eyes and turned her focus back to the barbecue.

At length the fire was coaxed into life, spitting and crackling, and then everyone’s attention turned to food and drink. Beers were opened and passed round, barbecues lit. Soon the air was filled with the smell of woodsmoke and cooking sausages.

Presently Katy turned up with her boyfriend Phil, and she pounced on Ilsa at once. “Where is he?” she hissed.

Ilsa shyly pointed to Nick, standing chatting to Cormoran and Dave and Gavin, and Katy admired him covertly. She winked. “Well done, Ils,” she said, and Ilsa blushed.

Cigarettes were passed round. Ilsa, having learned her lesson at the party, said no. Nick smoked with the other guys and Ilsa and Katy sat and supervised one of the barbecues and chatted.

“Where’s he sleeping?” Katy asked softly.

“Spare room.”

“Your choice, or parents’?”

“Parents’.”

Katy winked. “Can always sneak back and forth in the night,” she said, and giggled as Ilsa blushed.

“I’ve only just met him really,” Ilsa said.

“Are you gonna shag him?”

Ilsa squeaked and glared a little. “Mind your own business!” she said, giggling.

Katy laughed wickedly. “Have you done it already?”

“No!” Ilsa said, scandalised. “He just got here!”

“And he’s just leaving again in, like, two days. Hurry up!”

Ilsa giggled. “Oh, be quiet,” she said fondly. “Plenty of time for all that, maybe. I hope.” She and Nick had yet to broach the subject of her possibly visiting London. She had felt she ought to wait until invited, really, but he hadn’t invited her. Yet.

“I’m going to grab another cider. Want one?” Katy stood. Ilsa nodded, and Katy went to rummage in her bag for the drinks.

Ilsa stood too, stretching a little, and Nick saw her on her own and wandered over.

“Hi,” he murmured. She looked even more animated in the firelight, sparkling, her hair glinting red and orange.

“Hi,” she said back, sliding her arm around him. He kissed her, tasting of beer and smoke, and she pressed closer, kissing him back. He drew back a little and smiled, resting his forehead on hers. The night was cold, but the fire was warm and he was on his second beer. The world felt very, very right.

“Cornwall is beautiful,” he murmured. “I’m not surprised you guys love it so.”

Ilsa nodded, her arm still around him. “It’s pretty special down here,” she said. “Have you never been before?”

Nick shook his head. “We always go to Brighton or sometimes along from Dover if we want the sea,” he said. “I’ve not been to the south west at all.”

Ilsa shivered a little in the cold wind and cuddled closer to him, and he wrapped his arms around her. “Well, I’m glad you’re here now,” she said warmly.

He chuckled into her hair. “Good thing I plucked up the courage to ring,” he said self-deprecatingly.

Ilsa pulled back a little to look up at him. “Plucked up the courage?” she repeated, a little sceptical.

Nick nodded, smiling wryly. “I dialled and then hung up about five times before I found the nerve to let it actually ring,” he admitted.

Ilsa was incredulous. “ _You_ were nervous about ringing _me_? Why?”

He shrugged. “I’d heard bits and pieces from Oggy about his middle-class aunt and uncle and their nice house and nice friends,” he said. “I wasn’t sure you’d really be that interested in a cabbie’s son from Hackney.”

Ilsa stared at him for a long moment, and then giggled.

“What?” He looked slightly affronted.

Ilsa grinned. “And here was me thinking the cool, gorgeous Londoner I’d met couldn’t possibly really fancy a country bumpkin with glasses,” she said, laughing. “We are a pair.”

He grinned broadly at her, relieved, so handsome it took her breath away. She wondered if his light quip had held more insecurity than she’d realised. He leaned forward and kissed her sweetly on the mouth.

“We are,” he said. “But you’re no country bumpkin with glasses, Ilsa. You’re gorgeous, and I’m a lucky guy.”

Ilsa blushed. “Stop it,” she muttered, but her heart swelled with happiness. She kissed him, lingering, opening her mouth to his, and felt him respond, his tongue coming forward to meet hers, deepening the kiss.

Over by the fire, Cormoran watched his old friends getting to know one another, whispering and kissing, and smiled. He was glad they’d found each other, and that they seemed to have really hit it off. Ilsa looked every bit as keen as Nick.

Lucy appeared at his side, her head not even reaching his shoulder. He grinned down at her. “All right, little sis?”

She nodded. “I was thinking I might come up in the new year to see Mum, before we go back to school,” she said. “When are you going back?”

He looked at her appraisingly. He knew how she felt about Whittaker. “You want me there?”

She nodded. “Shanker isn’t always about.”

“Let’s go back for new year, then, and you can come back down for the start of term?” Cormoran nodded towards Nick and Ilsa, still wrapped up in one another, murmuring to each other quietly. “You could probably persuade Ilsa to join us.”

Lucy grinned. “Don’t think she’ll take much persuading,” she replied. “Thanks, Stick.”

He dropped his arm round her shoulders and squeezed so hard she squealed in protest. “No worries.”

Lucy leaned her head on his shoulder briefly, then shrugged him off. “Introduce me to Gavin.”

He quirked an eyebrow at her. “Why?”

“Cos he’s good-looking, that’s why.”

“You can’t go out with my friends. I forbid it.”

“Why not? I’m not that much younger than you. When’s his birthday?”

“I dunno. Summer, I think.”

“He’s only a year older than me, then.”

“Luce. It’s weird.”

“Would you rather I went out with Dave?”

Cormoran shot her a sharp sideways look. “Has he asked?”

Lucy giggled. “No. I don’t think he’d dare.”

“I should think not. You _definitely_ can’t go out with him.”

“So introduce me to Gavin.”

Cormoran sighed. “Gav?” he called, and his mate ambled over. Liz followed him, and Cormoran grinned at her. He remembered her from school, tall with long dark hair. She didn’t always join their beach parties. She smiled back at him, her eyes lingering, holding his gaze, and he manoeuvred himself around Gavin to be next to her. His evening was looking up all of a sudden.

Katy reappeared at Ilsa’s side and cleared her throat ostentatiously. Grinning, Ilsa broke free of Nick and thanked her friend for the cider. She introduced Katy and Nick, and Phil joined them. While the others chatted, Ilsa started to assemble hot dogs and pass them round.

The other barbecues were coming to fruition as well, and soon the whole gang were sat round on the sand, eating. More wood was found and thrown on the fire, more beers opened and, as Ilsa had predicted, a cassette player was produced and some music was put on.

Ilsa sat next to Nick, her leg touching his, and looked around, content. She watched the various couples. Liz had clearly staked a claim on Cormoran for the evening, and he didn’t appear to mind at all, chatting away to her, leaning back on one elbow, lazily confident. Lucy appeared to be trying to chat Gavin up, and Ilsa wasn’t sure how much success she was having, though by the anxious looks Gavin was casting at Cormoran, Ilsa wondered if it was fear of her brother’s reaction rather than disinterest that was holding him back.

Katy and Phil, the only well-established couple, looked cosy and content together. And the various other mates were just here to party. Ilsa cast a sideways glance at Dave Polworth and wondered who he had his eye on this evening. There was always someone he was hopeful of making a move on.

Food finished and tidied up, the evening began to be a little rowdier. There was plenty of beer and cider left, and soon various people were dancing. The music was cranked up. Ilsa danced with Nick, then with the girls, then with Nick again.

A slower track began to play, and Nick pulled her into his arms to dance as they had done at the party where they’d met. They were slightly outside the light cast by the fire now, a little private, and he slid his arms around her as she moulded herself to him. He lowered his head and kissed her, and there was more intent in his kisses suddenly. His tongue slid into her mouth with more surety, and she hummed and pressed closer.

They kissed and kissed, rocking together to the music, and then he drew back a little and his eyes twinkled at her. “Did you say the boathouse was private?”

Shy, Ilsa nodded. She took his hand in hers and led him around the circle of people chatting and dancing round the fire. They slipped away in the darkness, and she stooped to grab her lantern where she’d left it by the bags as they passed.

“We have to go around,” she murmured, switching on the lantern so they could see. They passed the padlocked front of the abandoned boathouse and found the side door on the opposite side that had long since been forced open, probably by youngsters seeking the same privacy they sought now. Her heart beat a little faster. She was utterly captivated again by his closeness, by how attracted to him she was, by how her heart jumped when he was near, by the heat that swept through her when he kissed her.

She led him through the door, and he looked around. The room was mostly dark and shadowed. A couple of old rowing boats with holes in their hulls lay half buried in the sand. A few packing crates served as makeshift tables and chairs, an old bait tin as an ashtray. Ilsa put the lantern next to it.

She led him over to one of the boats and showed him where to sit on the bench at the stern so he could lean back a little on the rear of the boat. Nick sat down and gently drew her onto his lap and kissed her again. They kissed for a while, tongues meeting, until Ilsa, uncomfortably twisted, drew back and slid her leg over his, straddling him, and twined her hands into his hair as she kissed him again. His hands moved around her back, pulling her closer, and then crept lower to slide up under the back of her jacket and jumper, caressing her through her T-shirt.

Gently, Nick broke free and kissed along her jaw to her neck, burying his face in her hair and kissing her skin softly. He sucked gently at her neck and she trembled. Everything he did felt so right, so good. She tilted her head to give him more access, and he trailed kisses down her neck, making goosebumps wash over her.

He pressed closer, sitting up straighter, pulling her hips nearer to his, and suddenly she could feel an unmistakable hardness pressing against her groin. She jumped a little at the feel of it. It wasn’t the first time she had felt an erection against her, but it was the first time she had felt the fierce thrill of arousal and curiosity that ran through her suddenly. She instinctively rocked against it a little, pressing closer, and he gasped against her neck, pushing back against her. Heat swept through her and she rocked again, rubbing against him, and he groaned and bit gently at her neck, flexing his hips back at hers. Ilsa felt a surge of feminine power.

He drew back a little, and Ilsa shivered at the look he gave her, his eyes dark with arousal in the dim light. “You’re so sexy,” he murmured, and she flushed a little. “So are you,” she whispered back.

Nick slid his left hand slowly round from her back to her side, still tucked under her jumper, almost brushing the side of her breast. “May I...?”

Ilsa nodded, eager for him to touch her, and then gasped as he stroked gently along the side of her breast with his fingertips. Her back arched involuntarily, pushing her breast forward into his hand, and he cupped her gently, stroking her through her T-shirt. His fingers moved up and brushed across her nipple, sending sparks of pleasure through her, and Ilsa realised how unsteady her breathing had become.

He kissed her again, his hand still on her breast, stroking gently, and suddenly Ilsa wanted him to feel the storm she was feeling inside too. She drew back and wrapped her arm around his neck, guiding his head so that she could kiss his jaw, his neck, as he had done to her, thrilling at the feeling of him shuddering beneath her as her lips roved across his skin.

Nick’s right hand slid lower on her back, down over her bottom, pulling her closer so he could grind against her a little as she explored his neck. Then he kissed her again, moaning a little against her mouth and she moaned too. She’d never felt such a turmoil inside her, breathless and molten hot.

He pulled back again, bringing his hand away from her breast, withdrawing his mouth from hers, breathing hard, his eyes clouded with desire. Ilsa gazed back at him, her lips swollen from his kisses, her legs feeling like jelly.

“I think we’d better slow down,” Nick whispered raggedly. Then he grinned. “This is technically only our second date.”

She laughed a little and dipped her head, shy. He took her hand in his, twining their fingers together. He kissed her gently on the end of her nose and she pulled a face at him.

“Do you—?” he began. “I mean, how far—?”

Ilsa blushed a little. “I don’t know,” she murmured. “I’ve never...” She looked away, embarrassed.

Realisation dawning, Nick nodded. He pulled her into a gentle hug. “There’s no rush,” he said softly. “I’m enjoying just being with you, getting to know you.”

Ilsa looked back at him, bolder now. “I’d like to, though,” she said, realising that it was true. She’d never really contemplated going all the way with a guy before, had never wanted to, even with Adam who she’d dated for a couple of months the previous year, and who she had sensed would have liked to take things further. But suddenly she understood what had been missing, this...connection, physical attraction that she felt for Nick. She grinned at him. “I really like you, and I trust you. And I want...” She trailed off, unsure how to say what she felt, what she wanted. She blushed again. “Do you?”

He chuckled a little and flexed his hips forward to hers, his erection nudging her through their clothes. “I think I already answered that question,” he said wryly. “But really, there’s no pressure. I’d love to, one day, but only if you want to.”

Ilsa nodded, and her eyes searched his in the gloom, curious now. “Have you ever—?”

It was Nick’s turn to look embarrassed. “Yeah,” he said. “But, you know. Not loads.”

She carried on looking at him, curious.

“Okay,” he said. “I went out with this girl for a few months last year, so there was her. And a couple of times with a girl from the year above when I was nearly seventeen, those were my first times. And once with a girl I met at a party last summer. So, not loads.”

She nodded. “What’s it like?”

He grinned at her. “It’s lovely, with the right person. I think it’ll work between us,” - Ilsa blushed again - “but there’s no hurry. I, er...” He paused delicately. “I didn't want to assume, so I didn’t get any condoms. So it’s not even an option for the moment.” He smiled softly and she hugged him close, wondering what it would feel like to have this man make love to her. Heat swept through her at the thought.

“But that doesn’t mean we can’t have other kinds of fun,” Nick murmured, husky again. “Want to come sneak into bed with me one night?”

Ilsa squeaked and buried her face in his shoulder. “I don’t know if I dare,” she said.

He smiled tenderly and kissed the side of her head. “Well, for now, let’s go back and join the party before we’re missed.” Privately he thought to himself that he could do to not be here with her in the dark when he’d had a few beers and she was responding to him so eagerly. His body ached for her, knowing exactly what was supposed to come next, and he didn’t want to get carried away into something she might regret in the morning. He half wished he hadn’t made the comment about her sneaking into his room. He didn’t want her to feel pressured to go further than she wanted to.

They stood and straightened their clothing, and Ilsa picked up the lamp. They made their way to the door and stepped out. Leaning against the wall a little way along from the door, Cormoran and Liz broke apart. Liz buried her face in his shoulder, embarrassed, and Nick winked. Cormoran gave them a sly look and a jerk of his head to indicate that they should go away, and Ilsa giggled and pulled Nick back round the front of the boathouse and back towards the fire.

He slid his arm around her as they strolled across the sand, and Ilsa swayed closer to him, then stopped before they reached the others, pulling him to a halt. She looked up at him, her eyes searching his. “We could borrow the car again tomorrow, go down to St Mawes and find a chemist,” she murmured.

He frowned a little, puzzled. “What for?”

She blushed. “Condoms,” she whispered.

Nick smiled gently at her, but shook his head. “Next visit, if you still want to,” he said.

Ilsa drew back a little. “Why not?”

He must have sensed her worry, her insecurity. He bent his head and kissed her sweetly, gently.

“It’s not that I don’t want to, believe me,” he said when he eventually drew away again. “But I want you to be sure. It’s a big step. Think about it when I’m not here, when we’re in separate counties again, if you’re sure you want to see me again.”

Ilsa scoffed a little. “I’ll definitely want to see you again,” she assured him.

“Me too,” he said quickly. “Are you going to come up to London?”

She peeped up at him shyly, delighted. “Do you want me to?”

He grinned. “Yeah, I do. I’d like you to meet my family.”

Ilsa nodded. “Okay.” She burrowed back against him, against his warmth. He wrapped his arms around her and they sighed together, content.

 

 


	5. London

Ilsa said goodbye to her mum, hoisted her rucksack onto her shoulder and went out to the waiting Volvo. Cormoran sat in the passenger seat next to his Uncle Ted, and Ilsa climbed into the back with Lucy. The three of them were off to London, Cormoran for the new college term and Ilsa and Lucy just to visit.

The car was filled with excited chatter about their various plans on the drive down to St Austell station. Cormoran was on his way back to the squat where his mother lived with her new husband and imminent baby, and Lucy was just visiting and would travel back to Cornwall with Ilsa for the start of term. Ilsa was on her way to stay with Nick and his family. She was both desperate to see him and nervous about having to stay with strangers. But he’d done it for her, and Cormoran and Lucy would be around too.

They boarded the train, waved goodbye to Uncle Ted and found a table. The train was relatively quiet, but would fill up as they approached London.

“I like your earrings,” Lucy told Ilsa, admiring the little aquamarine studs. “Are they new?”

Ilsa’s cheeks turned a little pink. “Yes, I got them for Christmas.”

“Ooh, who from?”

Blushing properly now, Ilsa started rummaging in her bag. “I think from Nick. I was going to ask you, Corm—” She pulled a little gift tag from the inside pocket of her bag and passed it across the table. “Is that his writing?”

Cormoran looked at it. It read simply, “To Ilsa, happy Christmas x.”

He grinned. “Yeah, that’s him,” he said. “Did he not give them to you himself?”

Ilsa shook her head. “We found the little box under the tree on Christmas Day, just tucked in with all the other presents,” she said, her face still pink. “I figured it must have been him.”

“Oh, how sweet,” Lucy cried, clapping her hands. “And they match your eyes.”

Cormoran looked at her appraisingly. “They really do,” he said.

Ilsa beamed. “I know.” Her face fell a little. “I feel a bit bad because I didn’t get him anything. I didn’t think.”

Cormoran smiled at her. “I don’t think he’ll be bothered,” he told her. “When a guy gets a present for a girl, he just wants her to have it. He’s not looking for something in return.”

Ilsa nodded, her eyes a little misty. “It was so lovely of him,” she said.

“Did you not ask him about it on the phone?” Lucy asked curiously.

“No, it was impossible to get quiet time,” Ilsa said. “Mum and dad still haven’t got a cordless, so you have to sit in the hall to ring anyone, and we’ve had a houseful all over Christmas. I spoke to him on Boxing Day really quickly to say happy Christmas, but that was it. I didn’t want to ask him in front of people.”

Lucy nodded. Ilsa tucked the gift tag back into her bag, a happy little smile playing around her mouth.

“Right.” Cormoran produced a battered pack of cards from the front pocket of his rucksack. “Game of rummy? We have four hours to fill.”

They passed the time playing cards and chatting, and the anticipation curling in Ilsa’s stomach increased a little with every passing hour, every station they went through, getting closer and closer to London.

The train finally pulled in, and Cormoran grinned at Ilsa’s obvious excitement. He’d refrained from asking her about Nick. He didn’t need to know details, and after a lifetime of friendship he could read Ilsa like a book. She was crazy about this guy, he could see. He wondered idly if they were sleeping together and then pushed the thought away. Ilsa had always felt like another sister to him. There are things a guy doesn’t care to know about his sister, and whether or not his best mate is sleeping with her is one of them.

They clambered off the train and made their way with the crowds towards the end of the platform. Ilsa squealed when she saw Nick and dropped her rucksack, running to throw herself into his arms. Amused, Cormoran picked up the discarded bag and followed, not missing the way Nick staggered back under the force of Ilsa’s embrace - nor the obvious reciprocal delight on his face or the way he buried his nose in her hair.

Cormoran grinned as he approached them. “You don’t normally meet me off the train,” he teased Nick, and they all laughed. The young men shook hands, embraced briefly, and Nick greeted Lucy, then the four friends set off for the Tube. Ilsa tucked her hand into Nick’s and he squeezed it fondly. She had three whole nights before she and Lucy had to head home for the start of term. Her heart swelled with happiness.

...

She needn’t have been nervous meeting Nick’s family. His mum was lovely and kind, his dad reserved at first but relaxed soon enough. His sister Hannah seemed quite friendly. She wasn’t going to be around much, having arranged to stay at a friend’s so that Ilsa could have her bedroom, which Ilsa felt quite guilty about. And his little brother Daniel was excited to meet his adored big brother’s new friend.

“I tried to persuade Mum to let you stay in my room,” Nick murmured as he showed her up the stairs to where she was sleeping. “I mean, I’m eighteen and you very nearly are. But she said because I had to stay in the spare room at yours...” He shrugged.

Ilsa nodded. “I’ll work on my mum,” she said. “Might never happen, though!”

He led her into Hannah’s room, closed the door and pulled her straight into his arms to kiss her. He kissed and kissed her, and Ilsa felt her knees go weak.

“I missed you,” he murmured. Ilsa grinned against his mouth. “I missed you too.”

He drew back a little and tucked her hair back, smiling softly at the earrings. Ilsa gave him a tremulous smile, feeling almost tearful suddenly. “Thank you,” she whispered.

He grinned. “You’re welcome. I just saw them and they reminded me of your eyes.”

“You’d only met me once.”

Nick shrugged, his cheeks slightly pink. “They just reminded me.”

Ilsa slid her arms around his neck and kissed him again, her heart swelling with fondness.

Eventually Nick drew back again and smiled down at her. “I thought we might go to the pub after tea,” he said. “There’s a place a few of us hang out, Oggy will probably be there. Sound okay? And then tomorrow there’s a little bar we could all go to for New Year’s Eve. It’ll be busy, but we could still go if you want. Everyone will be there.”

Ilsa nodded. “I’d like that. What else have you got planned?”

Nick hesitated a little, a cheeky glint in his eye. “Well, if you still wanted... I, er, got some condoms,” he whispered.

“And I’ve got my period,” she whispered back.

Nick started laughing, and suddenly Ilsa was giggling too. She’d been afraid he’d be...what? Disappointed? Frustrated? But he was just amused, and that made her even more besotted with him.

“Well, that was excellent timing!” he said cheerfully. “I guess we’ll be getting to know each other a bit more first, then. Come on, let’s go and see if tea’s ready. You must be hungry after the journey.”

On their way back downstairs, Ilsa pointed to the phone on the wall. “Is that the only house phone?” she asked.

Nick nodded and grinned. “That’s why I can’t whisper sweet nothings down the phone to you most of the time,” he said. “There always seems to be someone in, and you can hear the person on the phone almost all over the house.”

Tea was early, because Daniel had a set bedtime. Ilsa enjoyed the meal, not as shy as she thought she’d be. Nick’s mum was very welcoming, and Hannah chatted too. Nick’s dad was out at work.

Little Daniel was fascinated with Ilsa. He told her all about his school, chatting away about his friends and about a project they were working on in class, delighted that Ilsa was interested and asking questions.

After dinner, Ilsa tried to help with the dishes, but Nick’s mum shooed her away. “You two spend some time together,” she said. “It’s likely going to be a few weeks before you can see each other again.”

...

They met Cormoran in the pub Nick had mentioned. He was there with a couple of guys from the sixth form he and Nick attended. Lucy had elected to stay at the squat and spend some time with Leda because Whittaker was out at a gig. Cormoran looked tense.

“How’s your mum?” Ilsa asked, concerned. Cormoran waved a dismissive hand as though to brush the conversation away.

“Same,” he said shortly. “Only bigger.” He swiftly changed the subject. “Come and meet everyone. It’s mostly the same guys from the party.”

Nick led Ilsa over to the little group of a couple of guys and three girls. Her hand was tucked into his and it helped her feel less shy.

“Hi, guys,” he said, grinning round. “This is Ilsa, my girlfriend. Ilsa, that’s...” and he listed their names, names that barely registered in Ilsa’s brain because she hadn’t heard anything after the word girlfriend. He’d introduced her to a gang of his mates as his girlfriend. She squeezed his hand, her heart full of joy.

Ilsa nodded round at everyone, and Nick grinned down at her. “Let’s get a drink,” he said, and she nodded and followed him to the bar.

Cormoran was at the bar, ordering a pint. Ilsa laid a gentle hand on his arm as Nick moved to a space to try to catch the barman’s eye. “You okay?” she murmured.

Cormoran took his change and his pint, thanked the barmaid and turned to her. “Yeah,” he said, gruffly. “Just a bit of a shock seeing Mum so...big. She looks exhausted, and she reckons she’s got weeks to go.”

“When’s she due?”

He shrugged. “I thought she said February, ages ago.”

“What do the docs say?”

Cormoran scowled. “I don’t think she’s been going to all the appointments,” he said. “I hope she’s at least been going to some. She just keeps saying it’s a perfectly natural process that doesn’t need to be medicalised. Whilst smoking dope.” He looked down into his pint, his jaw set.

Ilsa sighed a little and squeezed his arm again. “Chances are she’ll be fine,” she reassured him. “She had you guys, and it is a natural process.”

“Yeah, but she’s hardly twenty any more.”

“Lots of women have babies at nearly forty.”

“I know. Can we talk about something else? Lucy’s there with her now, hopefully trying to talk some sense into her.”

Ilsa nodded, and put her arm around him for a brief hug.

“So, you two coming to the New Year’s Eve thing tomorrow?”

Ilsa glanced shyly across at Nick. “I think so.”

“Great. I’ll drag Lucy down, and the gang should be here.” Cormoran paused, remembering the hug at the station. “You guys look happy.” He smiled down at her, and Ilsa blushed.

“We are. Well, I hope he is. I am. And he just introduced me as his girlfriend,” she confided in a whisper.

Cormoran grinned fondly at her. “He looks pretty smitten to me.”

Ilsa nodded shyly as Nick joined them and passed her a Bacardi and Coke. He grinned at her and slid and arm around her, pulling her close. “So what’s the plan for tomorrow night?”

...

Nick’s parents were both at work the following afternoon. He had taken Ilsa out to show her the neighbourhood, show her the school he and Cormoran would be leaving at the end of the year. They’d walked and chatted, bought ice creams at the corner shop. They strolled back to his house, hand in hand.

Nick made them mugs of tea and carried them through to the living room. He ran his hand along the shelf of videos. “Fancy watching a film?”

Ilsa nodded. Nick selected a film and set it playing, and they curled up on the sofa together.

“Gross Anatomy?” Ilsa asked, giggling.

“It’s not actually gross,” Nick assured her. “It’s a sort of coming-of-age thing about a guy at medical school.”

They sat and watched for a while. Ilsa enjoyed the film, but she enjoyed cosying up to Nick more. He wasn’t making any moves to touch her like he had in Cornwall, and she wondered if that was simply because of what she’d told him when she arrived. The insecure part of her worried that he didn’t want to, while she was finding his hand idly stroking her upper arm so distracting, she couldn’t concentrate fully on the film.

She raised her head slightly from his shoulder and pressed a kiss to the base of his neck, just above the edge of his T-shirt, breathing the scent of him. Nick sighed a little, and she decided to take that as encouragement to continue. She kissed the same spot again, but her lips parted now so she could taste him, and her tongue slid gently across his skin.

Nick moaned and dropped his head back against the cushions, goosebumps spreading across his skin. She licked him gently again and he shivered.

Bolder, she sat up a little so she could kiss further up his neck. His eyes drifted closed, his arm hugging her closer as she ran her lips across his skin, up his neck to his jaw. She kissed along his jaw a little, enjoying the scrape of his stubble against her mouth, and then moved back across his cheek. He jumped when her breath washed over his ear, and then moaned again as her tongue explored gently.

Smiling, Ilsa drew back a little. Nick’s eyes drifted open, and the look he gave her sent a jolt of arousal through her. His gaze was dark, hooded, hazy with desire.

“You turn me on so much,” he whispered shakily. Ilsa couldn’t resist a glance downwards, and she saw the bulge of his erection straining against the front of his tracksuit trousers. She flushed a little as she looked back up at him, but he didn’t look embarrassed, and suddenly she wasn’t either. She wanted him to want her. The power of it was intoxicating, sexy.

Film forgotten, Ilsa grinned at him cheekily, and lowered her head to his mouth to kiss him. He kissed her back fiercely, his hand sliding into her hair and pulling her closer, his tongue thrusting forwards. She could feel the desire he had been holding back pouring into her.

She kissed and kissed him, and then drew away and kissed across his chest though his T-shirt. She moved lower, exploring, nipping at him gently through the cotton and enjoying the way he jumped when she did it. When she reached the waistband of his trousers, she started to gently ease them down.

“Ilsa—” he murmured. She looked up.

“No?”

He sat up, taking her hands in his gently. “I’d rather wait till I can return the favour.”

Ilsa flushed a little. “That...might be possible, maybe tomorrow.” She blushed harder, not used to discussing such things with a guy.

He sat back again, smiling gently at her. “No hurry. We’ve got the new year thing later, and tomorrow I thought we could go and wander round Soho. It’ll be quiet on New Year’s Day.”

She smiled at him shyly. “I’d like that.” She tried not to think about the fact that she had to go home again the day after that. Both her mum and Joan had insisted the girls come back on Saturday, to leave Sunday free for getting ready for the new term.

...

Nick and Ilsa strolled to the bar after an early dinner. Ilsa had brought a sparkly top to wear with a skirt and leggings, and Nick had grinned at her when she emerged from Hannah’s room and told her she looked beautiful. He was wearing a dark shirt and casual trousers.

It was a short walk through the evening drizzle. The evening wasn’t cold, so they could get away with light jackets. Ilsa’s hand was tucked into Nick’s, safe and warm, and her stomach fizzed with happiness and anticipation. She glanced up at him as they walked along, and he smiled down at her, so handsome it took her breath away. Her heart swelled with fondness for him and she leaned her head against his arm as he squeezed her hand.

 _Am I in love with him?_ she wondered. Surely it was too soon to know. This was only really the third time they’d met, although they had spent several days together last time. But she knew she had never felt like this about anyone else she’d dated.

“Here we are,” Nick said. They squeezed in at the door of the bar, which was already busy, and Nick went to get some drinks. Ilsa looked around to see if she could see anyone she recognised. She soon spotted Cormoran with a couple of the guys from last night, and made her way over to them.

“No Lucy again?” she asked, having to raise her voice to be heard over the hubbub.

Cormoran shook his head. “Think she’s trying to cram in as much time with Mum as she can,” he replied. “Mum’s got bad backache tonight, so I’d have felt bad if we were both coming out, anyway.”

“Where’s her husband?”

Cormoran scowled. “New Year party somewhere.”

Ilsa rolled her eyes.

“I know,” he said darkly. “Don’t start me. Let’s just enjoy the evening.”

Nick reappeared with drinks and greeted the others in the group, and their New Year’s Eve began.

...

Ilsa excused herself to the toilet, leaving Nick talking to Cormoran. The pub was packed out now, even though it was still hours until midnight. She squeezed through the crowds towards the sign pointing to the loos. It was a bit of a walk down a corridor, left at the end, and there were the doors to the ladies and gents. She went in, surprised to find it empty with how busy the pub was.

When she emerged five minutes later, keen to get back to the party, she cannoned right into someone outside the door, not looking where she was going. She squeaked a little and glanced up, and grinned. Nick.

“I was hoping to catch you alone for a moment,” he murmured. “You look amazing tonight. Sparkly.”

Ilsa smiled up at him and slid her arms around his neck. “So do you. Dark blue suits you.”

He kissed her, hard, and she jumped at the insistent feel of him. He tasted of beer, a little of smoke, but mostly of him. She hummed a little and kissed him back, and he stepped forward, pressing her gently against the wall. Ilsa leaned back against it, pulling him closer, and he flexed his hips towards hers.

She could feel a growing hardness pressing against her groin as they kissed, and heat coursed through her. Curious, she rocked against it, and he groaned and kissed her harder, his tongue plundering her mouth, taking her breath away.

Bold, she slid a hand down between them, easing him away from her and brushing across the hard outline of his erection through his trousers. Nick broke free of her mouth with a gasp, and kissed fiercely along her jaw. He moaned a little into her ear, his hips flexing against her hand as she stroked across him. She pressed a little harder, fascinated by his reaction to her, and he drew back, shuddering, his eyes dark.

“God, Ilsa, that feels so good,” he murmured. He glanced towards the corridor where it turned away from them, but they could hear no-one approaching. His left hand slid from around her waist up to the front of her top, cupping her breast, stroking across it. “I want you,” he whispered into her ear.

“I want you too,” she whispered back, sparks of electricity running through her, desire swirling deep in her body, her hand stroking across him still. Blushing, she pressed her lips to his ear and murmured, “I think we’ll be good to go tomorrow.”

Shuddering, Nick forced himself to pull back from her, to lower his hand away. “That would be amazing, but there’s really no pressure,” he managed.

“I know, but I want to.” She gave him a cheeky smile and he groaned and kissed her again.

Heavy footsteps approaching along the hall forced them to break apart. Ilsa made to step away from him, but Nick grabbed her round the waist and swung her so that her back was pressed to his stomach. He chuckled wryly into her ear. “You’d better help me hide this, since it’s your fault,” he teased, flexing his hips a little and pressing his hard cock against the cleft of her bottom.

Ilsa giggled and relaxed back against him, letting him hug her from behind. She thrilled to the fact that he wanted her so much. It was a heady, powerful feeling.

She smiled up at Cormoran as he rounded the corner. “There you two are!” he said. “Getting up to no good?” He gave them a wicked smirk.

Ilsa gave him a look of innocence that was belied by the flush of her cheeks. “Why would you think that?” She could feel Nick still hard against her, and struggled not to giggle.

“Well, why else would you be lurking down here?” Cormoran grinned and shouldered his way into the men’s toilets.

Nick laughed and kissed Ilsa’s cheek, squeezing her fondly. “Let’s go and get another drink,” he said, “and try to behave ourselves.”

They made their way slowly back into the bar, and Ilsa’s attention was snagged by an argument near the door. The pub had bouncers on tonight to control numbers, and someone was trying to get in who they were trying to keep out. There were raised voices. People began to turn and look.

“Nick!” yelled the figure from outside the door suddenly, and Nick glanced back from his position at the bar, startled. He abandoned his place in the queue and made his way over to the door.

Ilsa didn’t know whether to stay still or follow. She couldn’t see much of the figure outside, but the shaved head, tattoos and general air of menace alarmed her. How did Nick come to know someone who looked like that?

As she hesitated, a swift exchange of information took place past the bouncers, and then the figure was gone and Nick was making his way back towards her though the crowds. “Oggy still in the loos?” he asked her as soon as he was within earshot.

“I think so. What’s going on? Who was that?”

Nick started making his way towards the toilets. “Shanker. Lucy sent him. Leda’s in labour.”

...

Ilsa lay in bed that night and pondered on her evening. Cormoran had left as soon as Nick had filled him in on what little he knew, and they’d heard nothing from him since. She supposed these things must take hours. She and Nick had stayed a little longer, but the mood had been broken and the pub was getting busier and busier. She was relieved when Nick suggested they leave and go home to wait for news.

Nobody knew whether to be worried or not. Nick’s mum didn’t seem to think that six weeks early was necessarily a big deal. But the hours dragged and still there was no news. Midnight came and went. They wished Nick’s mum and sister a happy new year, and stole a moment together for a kiss in the hall. Eventually it was decided they would likely not hear anything tonight now, and so they all went to bed.

Ilsa sighed and turned over. Up until Shanker’s arrival, she had had a wonderful day and evening. She remembered kissing Nick on the sofa that afternoon - it seemed so long ago now - and in the pub corridor that evening. She remembered his hand on her breast, his erection pressed against her, and she shivered a little. If her period really was finished, and it seemed it was, then this time tomorrow night she might sneak into his bed and they could—

She blushed just thinking about it. Grinning to herself, she closed her eyes and tried to go to sleep.

...

Lying in bed next door, too keyed up to sleep, Nick gazed at the ceiling. There wasn’t much he could do for his friend. Shanker had said Lucy had called an ambulance, so Leda was in good hands.

His mind drifted, reliving the magical evening before Shanker’s arrival. Ilsa had looked stunning tonight, all sparkle and blue-green eyes twinkling at him. His libido surged as he remembered her breasts in that top, the way she—

 _Think of something else._ The way she smiled at him. The feel of her hand in his. The way he felt when he was with her, like he’d never felt about a girl before, captivated by her, his heart fluttering with nerves and swelling with happiness. _Is that love?_ he wondered. _Do I love her?_

He certainly wanted her, desperately. He was trying so hard not to pressure her, not to make her feel like she had to sleep with him, but his body betrayed him every time he was near her, and once she was in his arms and reacting like she had in the pub corridor—

A sudden, vivid memory of her hand rubbing across his aching cock, her breath washing over his ear as she whispered promises for the following night, and he was lost. Desire leapt, and within seconds he was just as aroused as he had been a few hours earlier, absolutely desperate for her. His hand moved unbidden to his erection, sliding down under the waistband of his boxers.

It seemed inappropriate somehow to do this with her just in the next room, but he couldn’t help himself. He closed his eyes, remembering the feel of her breast in his hand, the wrap of her arms around his neck, her tongue in his mouth, her small hand stroking him through his trousers. His hand slid on his cock and his breathing quickened. He’d wanted her so much, and for so long, today that it was over in a few strokes; he finished with a grunt, spilling across himself, shuddering with the force of his release.

Panting, he mopped himself up with his T-shirt that had been lying on the floor next to his bed, reflecting with a rueful half-smile that that had been a necessity if she were in fact planning to sneak into his room tomorrow night. He fervently hoped he’d have a little more control when they were finally able to be together, that things weren’t going to be over that fast.

Relaxed now, he lay back on the pillows, one arm thrown above his head, and allowed his mind to drift, but every image was of her. The way she smiled with half her mouth when something amused her. The curve of her lower lip that made him want to kiss her all evening. The little freckle on the side of her neck that he caught a glimpse of occasionally. The shy, cheeky sideways looks she cast him that sent a jolt of heat through his body every single time.

He sighed happily and turned over to try to sleep.

...

There was no news from Cormoran during the night, or the next morning. They abandoned plans to go and explore Soho, wanting to stay near the phone. Nick’s dad was asleep, having taxied until 4am, so Nick and Ilsa sat quietly in the kitchen and chatted. Hannah had gone to a friend’s. Nick’s mum tactfully left them alone, and they drank tea and chatted idly and snogged a little and waited.

It was after lunch when Lucy and Cormoran turned up, and Ilsa’s heart lurched. Cormoran looked grim and Lucy was crying.

“What’s happened?” Ilsa cried, running to put her arms around Lucy, reaching for Cormoran. She drew them into the little kitchen. Nick’s mum appeared in the doorway, concern on her face. Nick moved to fill the kettle and put it on to boil.

“Oh— everything’s fine with Mum,” Lucy managed. “Baby boy, born just before midnight, six pounds four. They haven’t chosen a name yet.”

Nick’s mum raised an eyebrow. “That’s big for thirty-four weeks,” she said.

Lucy gave a wobbly smile. “Yeah, they reckon Mum got her dates wrong. They said he doesn’t look that premature, maybe just a couple of weeks. He’s breathing fine and everything.”

“Could they not tell?”

Cormoran scowled darkly. “Apparently she’s skipped most of her appointments and refused all the scans. She read somewhere that they’re harmful,” he said crossly.

Nick turned from the kettle. “So...?” He looked from Cormoran to Lucy and back again.

Brother and sister looked at each other. Lucy dropped her gaze. Cormoran sighed.

“It took Shanker a while to track Whittaker down,” he said finally. “He was utterly wasted when he showed up at the hospital. He’d taken more than just dope, and he was drunk, too. Security had to remove him. And Mum was so upset and in pain, and I just saw red—” He stopped abruptly and drew a shaky breath.

There was a pause. “Did you hurt him?” Ilsa asked quietly.

“Not as much as I wanted to.”

Lucy started to cry again. Ilsa hugged her.

“I’m sorry,” she managed. “It’s been a long night. I stayed with Mum for the birth, she didn’t have anyone else. But I didn’t realise it would be so— so—”

Nick’s mum came forward and put her arms around her too. “It’s not the prettiest thing to witness,” she said gently. Lucy shook her head, leaning gratefully against a mother figure.

“And then—” She sniffed and fished a tissue out of her pocket. “And then Cormoran and Jeff...”

Cormoran made an angry noise in the back of his throat and marched out into the garden, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. Nick moved to follow him, but Ilsa laid a gentle hand on his arm. “I’ll go,” she said softly. Nick nodded.

Ilsa left Nick making multiple mugs of tea and his mum comforting Lucy, and followed Cormoran out into the garden. He was pacing angrily and smoking. The sky was leaden and grey, bearing low over them.

There was a little bench to one side of the patio. Ilsa sat on it and waited, watching him, tucking her arms around herself in the cold January air.

Eventually he stopped and glared at her. “What?”

Ilsa shrugged. “Nothing. I’m just here if you need me.”

He swung away and resumed his pacing, then abruptly stopped. He ground his cigarette butt out on the path and came and sat next to her.

“I’m sorry, Ils,” he muttered.

She nodded and patted his leg. “Did you get any sleep?”

“Not much. I stayed with Mum and Lucy for a bit, but it was tough watching Mum, and I guess that’s kind of...women stuff. I felt a bit in the way. So I went and waited in the waiting area. I think I dozed a bit. It didn’t take long, but it seems to take hours afterwards with all the checking and faffing. Me and Lucy didn’t leave the hospital till after four.”

“Where did you go?”

“Back to the flat, but _he_ was there, so we didn’t stay. We went to an all night cafe and then back to the hospital for morning visiting. Then we came here.”

“So you haven’t rested at all? No wonder you feel rubbish.”

Cormoran nodded. He’d had no time to process his night, his brain swirling with images of his mother in pain, Lucy crying, Whittaker staggering around the hospital and having to be forcibly removed... He took a deep, shuddering breath and shook his head as though to dislodge the unwanted thoughts. He needed to be strong for Lucy; he’d already upset her once by losing his temper with Whittaker. He needed to make sure his Mum had what she needed, having gone into hospital unprepared. He needed to liaise with Ted and Joan again. He needed to—

Ilsa laid her head against his shoulder, her arm sliding around his back. “Just take a minute,” she said quietly. “Time out. Nick’s mum’s got Lucy. Your mum is safe and well where she is for now.”

Cormoran nodded. Tears stung his eyes suddenly and he closed them, dropping his aching head forward, his forearms resting on his knees. Ilsa sat, her arm across his broad back, her chin resting on his shoulder, quiet. Her hand rubbed gentle, soothing circles on his opposite arm.

They sat for a long time. Nick, lining up cups with tea bags on the kitchen side, watched through the window, his heart melting anew at this caring, gentle side of Ilsa. He could see that no conversation was passing between the two of them, that they were just sitting. Presently she glanced up and saw him watching her, and smiled softly. He smiled back at her and went to retrieve the kettle, which had finished boiling.

When Ilsa and Cormoran stepped back into the kitchen, mugs of tea were waiting for them. Nick’s mum was bustling about, businesslike.

“Right,” she told Cormoran. “Lucy says Ted won’t be here until the evening, and that Joan is booking him a hotel. You two are going to stay here tonight. No argument,” she added, before Cormoran could open his mouth.

She turned to her son. “Nick, could you go up in the attic and see if those blow up mattresses and the pump are still up there? Or they might be in the cupboard in Daniel’s room. Ilsa, could you come and help me sort sheets and blankets?”

Ilsa nodded, and followed Nick’s mum out of the room. Nick disappeared to hunt through cupboards. To Ilsa’s surprise, though, instead of heading for the airing cupboard, she and Nick’s mum stopped at the top of the stairs. They sat on the top step.

“Plenty of time,” the older woman murmured. “I just thought those two—” she nodded her head down towards the kitchen “—could do with a minute. They’ve only got each other. Leda will be busy now.”

Ilsa nodded. She sighed, remembering the simmering tension she could feel in her friend as she hugged him. “I think things have been pretty tough for Corm.”

“I think so too. He sleeps here a lot.”

“I didn’t realise he and Whittaker hated each other quite so much.”

“That’s relatively recent. I mean, don’t get me wrong, they never liked each other. But he turns up quite...strung up sometimes, these days. Tense and jumpy. I think things are borderline physical.”

Ilsa sighed. “I wish he’d move back to Cornwall.”

“I think he’d feel guilty leaving her.”

“But it’s her choice!” Ilsa burst out. “She could leave too.”

Mrs Herbert patted her arm. “Yes, but many women don’t,” she said gently. She thought for a moment. “I don’t think Leda is unhappy, you know. Jeff is her husband. There’s not a logic to it. It just is what it is.” She paused. “Going away to university will be good for Cormoran.”

Ilsa nodded sadly.

“Right, so we’ll put Lucy in with you, and Cormoran in with Nick. And I think we’ll do jacket potatoes for tea and a huge pot of beans and some cheese. Comfort food, and minimum effort.”

Ilsa nodded again. “I’ll help. We all will.”

“Thank you, dear. I think the best thing you can do at the moment is be an ear for Lucy. Cormoran says you’re very good with her. She’s that bit younger than the rest of you, and this is a lot for her to deal with.”

Ilsa, still nodding, said, “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Wonderful. And we’ll see what John’s plans are when he wakes up. Perhaps he could pop them down to the hospital in the taxi.”

The phone rang, and Nick’s mum hurried down the stairs to answer it before it could wake her husband. Nick appeared in the doorway of Daniel’s room, holding a box.

“I’ve found one air bed and the pump,” he said. “The other one must be in the attic.”

Seeing Ilsa alone, he put the box down and came and sat next to her. “How’s Oggy?”

Ilsa shrugged. “As okay as he ever is, I guess. He hides it so well, I forget how bonkers his home life is.”

“Yeah.”

She grinned up at him. “Shame about our plans,” she murmured. “We’d have been good to go tonight.”

He smiled at her and leaned forward to kiss her, sweet and chaste. “Next time.”

Ilsa nodded. “Next time,” she promised.

 


	6. Cornwall

“So,” Ilsa said to Nick as she expertly manoeuvred the car out of the station car park. “I have good news. Mum and Dad have tickets to a concert up in Plymouth tomorrow night, some classical thing, and they’re staying in a hotel. Tom didn’t like the idea of me being in charge, so he’s going to Jake’s for the night.” She cast a sideways glance at him and caught his cheeky grin.

“So we have the house to ourselves for a whole night?” Nick asked, and Ilsa nodded. “And I have tried to argue the case with Mum that she might as well let me carry on sleeping in the spare room with you after. I’m eighteen too now. So we’ll see.”

Nick grinned. “Have you had to endure ‘the talk’?” he said, and Ilsa laughed. “Oh, I have indeed. I have to make sure you still respect me after,” she said.

He smiled softly at her. “I’ll see what I can do.”

...

When the following evening came, though, Ilsa was surprised that Nick seemed in no hurry. They’d waited for so long to get to this point, frustrated by geography and timing. But as soon as her parents and brother had gone, he suggested going to the pub for a while. Ilsa nodded, torn between wanting to drag him off to bed and being just a little bit glad that he wasn’t rushing.

They chatted in the pub, hands twined on the table, gazing into one another’s eyes, and Ilsa was glad they had taken the time to do this. It felt more intimate, somehow. They talked about their courses, their university hopes. They talked about families and old friends. They talked about Cormoran - how odd that they both knew him so well yet it had taken them so long to meet.

After the second round, Nick suggested a walk, and they strolled around the village in the moonlight, hand in hand. The air was crisp and cold, but with the promise of spring around the corner.

Ilsa took him to the place with the best view of the sea, and he hugged her while they stood and looked out at the moonlight glinting on the waves. Nick rested his cheek on top of her head and squeezed her close. Nerves fluttered in his stomach a little. He so wanted tonight to be perfect for her.

Eventually Ilsa drew away, took his hand and they drifted back towards the house. Nick’s heart began to beat faster.

In the kitchen he put the kettle on, but Ilsa giggled and dragged him upstairs. “You don’t have to woo me this much,” she said, grinning.

“I know,” he said, drawing her into a hug as she kicked the spare room door closed behind them. “But there’s no hurry.”

He drew back a little. “This doesn’t have to happen tonight, just because we kind of agreed,” he added. “Either one of us can back out.”

Ilsa smiled at him. “Do you want to back out?”

“No. Do you?”

“No. So that’s settled, then.” She grinned up at him, and he laughed and kissed her.

She kissed him for a minute, and then drew back. She turned to switch on the little bedside lamp and stepped around him to switch off the overhead light, so that the room was dim, romantic. Her eyes on his, she moved back to him and started to undo the buttons of his shirt. She saw his eyes widen, heard his breath catch, and then he began to help her.

Slowly, quietly, she removed his shirt, dropping it to the floor, and then she slid her arms around him and nuzzled into his chest. Nick hummed, his hands on her waist, encouraging her closer. He smelled warm and masculine, musky and a little spicy, his chest hair brushing her cheek. She inhaled him deeply, and began to kiss and mouth at him, enjoying the way his breathing became unsteady, the way goosebumps washed across him under her touches.

Nick’s hands slid up from her waist to toy with the hem of her top, drawing it up gently. Ilsa stepped back, smiling softly, and removed her glasses and put them on the bedside table. She pulled her top off and stood before him in just her bra, her clear blue-green eyes finding his. Nick gazed back at her. She looked beautiful, with just a hint of vulnerability, of nervousness. He’d rarely seen her without her glasses. Her eyes looked wider, luminous. Her breasts swelled above the lacy white edges of her bra. She was gorgeous, and desire swamped him. _Go slowly,_ he reminded himself sternly.

Her eyes holding his, Ilsa reached behind herself and undid her bra, dropping it to the floor with her top. Nick’s eyes ran over in the dim lamplight, his breathing harsher now. Ilsa flushed, a little self-conscious, but she wasn’t embarrassed. He was gazing at her breasts with a look of reverence.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered shakily. “Can I touch you?”

Ilsa giggled a little. “That was the idea.”

With a soft chuckle, he reached out and began to stroke her, tentative at first, becoming bolder as she moaned and pressed towards him, enjoying the feel of his hands on her skin.

“Okay?” he whispered, and she nodded, sighing with pleasure as he cupped her gently. “Tell me if it’s too much, if you don’t—”

“I want you to touch me,” she whispered back, and heard him draw a shaky breath. Bolder now, his thumbs brushed across her nipples. Ilsa gasped at the jolt that ran through her, her knees feeling shaky suddenly, unequal to the task of holding her up. He lowered his head to her chest and drew her hardening nipple into his mouth, and a whimper escaped her. Her hands crept around his back, pulling at him, clawing a little, and he gave a small growl deep in his throat, pressing closer, kissing his way up to her neck, his arm sliding around her back. She could feel his erection straining against her through his trousers. She wriggled against it, enjoying the way he groaned and thrust involuntarily at her.

Gently he encouraged her back towards the bed. She climbed onto it and lay down, and Nick lay next to her. He bent his head to her chest again and explored each breast in turn, stroking, kissing, sucking at her skin, murmuring to her how beautiful she was. Ilsa arched her back and revelled in his attentions, pleasure and desire rolling through her in waves. When his mouth closed over her nipple again, a deep groan escaped her, a noise she’d never heard herself make before, and she was almost embarrassed. The sound of it drew an answering groan from him, and he rocked against her a little, his straining erection rubbing across her hip.

Ilsa slid her hand down towards it, wanting to explore. Tentatively she traced the outline of his cock through his trousers with her fingers. Nick gasped, flexing his hips towards her again, and she instinctively closed her hand around him though the cloth, making him moan. She caressed him a little, exploring the feel of him, enjoying his ragged breathing, and wondered what he would feel like under her hand.

Gently she pushed him away a little and sat up, reaching to undo his trousers. He lay back and gazed at her, his hazel eyes dark with desire, watching her undress him.

She wrestled the unfamiliar button and fly undone, grinning at her own ineptitude. Smiling softly, he helped her take his trousers off, wriggling out of them and kicking them aside, toeing his socks off to join them on the floor.

Ilsa lay down next to him again and slid her hand back down across his stomach. She slipped her hand under the waistband of his boxers, and his breath hitched in anticipation. Slowly she slid down and closed around him again, skin on skin, squeezing gently, marvelling at the feel of him, the slide of silken skin, how hard he was.

“Fuck, Ilsa, that feels amazing,” Nick whispered shakily, thrusting into her hand a little, and she smiled against his cheek and squeezed gently again, running her hand up and down his length and hearing him moan softly in her ear as she did so. It filled her with pleasure to hear and feel the pleasure she was giving to him. She explored his cock gently, feeling more than a little daunted - it didn’t seem possible that it would fit inside her, even though she knew that it would, she’d been told plenty by her girlfriends.

Then his hand was sliding down too, from her waist across her stomach, and his fingers were toying with the waistband of her leggings.

“May I?” he asked hoarsely, and she nodded, shy. Now they were reaching the point she’d never gone beyond. Adam who she had dated for a few months last year had tried to go this far once, but she’d not liked it and had pushed him away. With Nick, though, her body was begging for him to touch her.

He seemed to know, and went slowly, stroking her over her leggings, cupping his hand gently at the apex of her thighs. His hand slid and rubbed, and little jolts of pleasure ran though her. Suddenly she wanted more, wanted his hand directly on her.

“Nick—” she gasped, pushing at her waistband. He sat up and peeled the leggings gently from her, unhurried, taking his time. He tossed them aside and looked down at her, hesitant, unsure whether it was too much at this stage to take her knickers off too.

She reached for him, and he lay back down next to her and kissed her, propped on one elbow, his hand stroking the skin of her back, caressing. They kissed for long minutes, her arms around his neck, her breasts pressed to his chest, and Nick willed his body to slow down. Desire clenched hard at the base of his spine, and his cock ached from the attentions of her gentle, curious hand, but he was determined to go as slowly as she needed.

She rocked her hips against his, and he smiled against her mouth. His hand slid around over her hip, his fingers dipping under the elastic of her knickers, and she rolled away a little to give him more access. He slipped his hand gently into her knickers, down and down. His fingers toyed a little with her curls, making her shiver, and then he slowly slid further, stroking down across her mound and down to her entrance.

Ilsa had instinctively closed her thighs a little, nervous, and Nick stopped, his hand resting against her gently. “Too much?” he asked softly.

She shook her head, glad the light was so dim, her cheeks pink. “Just shy, and a bit scared,” she whispered.

“I won’t hurt you.”

“I know.”

Nick withdrew his hand gently, but she grabbed his wrist, holding him in place. “I don’t want you to stop,” she whispered. She felt him smile as he kissed her.

“Can I take your knickers off?”

Ilsa squeaked a little but nodded. He gently drew them down over her legs and she kicked them off. Totally naked now, she half wished they were under the duvet, but Nick gazed at her body with such reverence, she was losing her shyness. She wished she didn’t feel so naive and inexperienced, hoping he was enjoying this as much as she was.

Nick gently rolled her onto her back. He propped himself up on one elbow, his cock jutting against her through his boxers, and stroked her stomach with his hand.

“Open your legs a bit,” he whispered, and she complied, trembling. Then he reached down, sure and gentle, and stroked his fingers across her entrance.

Ilsa gasped as pleasure pulsed through her. Her hips flexed of their own volition, seeking his hand, and he smiled gently against her temple. “Just relax,” he whispered, and then his fingers slid higher, stroking softly over her clit.

Pleasure clenched inside her and a whimper escaped her. Then his fingers moved lower again, exploring her folds, still stroking softly. Ilsa was embarrassed to feel how wet she was, but he seemed to like it, grunting with satisfaction and then slowly bringing the moisture upwards. He massaged it gently into her clit, and Ilsa gasped at the feel of it. His fingers stroked in small circles, and heat tightened almost painfully in her belly, yet at the same time her legs felt boneless, falling wider apart for him. He stroked and stroked, massaging gentle circles, and the pressure in her grew tighter and tighter until she wanted to wriggle away.

“Too much,” she gasped, and he stilled, and immediately she missed it, moving her hips against his hand.

He smiled again at her temple, and leaned down and kissed her mouth. As he kissed her, he began to gently stroke again, and pleasure stormed through her so that she almost cried out.

“Just relax,” he whispered again. “Let it go.”

She wasn’t sure what he meant at first, but he carried on stroking and her body clenched, the tension within her almost too much to bear. She felt as though she might shatter, writhing beneath him and moaning a little, and he kissed her, absorbing the small sounds she was making. Then he circled her clit again, still kissing her, drawing smaller, faster, tighter circles.

Suddenly pleasure rushed at her, rising like a wave and breaking over her, and she fell apart, pulses of delight rocking her, the muscles in her groin contracting, and she found herself curling up into him, her arms clutching at him. Gentle now, he stroked her through it, and then drew his hand away as she flopped back, limp, breaking the kiss and lying, gasping, in his arms.

Nick buried his face in her neck, in her hair, his arm around her back, kissing her softly while she came back down to earth. Delicious, sated warmth spread through her, tingling in her fingers and toes, filling her with wonder.

“Okay?” he murmured gently, and she nodded, speechless, her hands still clinging to him. She felt him smile against her cheek.

Ilsa drew a shuddering breath finally. “Wow,” she breathed, and pulled his head to hers, capturing his mouth in a searing kiss. He kissed her and then drew back, smiling down at her in the lamplight, looking fond and just a bit smug, and Ilsa smiled back up at him, her heart swelling with joy and fondness.

Wanting to make him feel what she had, she slid her hand down again to his groin. She gently pulled his boxers down and took his cock in her hand again, and he groaned as she touched him.

“Oh, God, Ilsa, that’s so good,” he whispered shakily as she ran her hand up and down his length. He thrust against her, and she could feel how aroused he was, even more now than before.

She leaned down and kissed him as she stroked, and he kissed her back fiercely, his tongue thrusting into her mouth. They kissed and kissed, and then Ilsa pulled back a little and ran her mouth, sucking and kissing, down his neck, her hand still gently stroking his erection. Nick hummed in pleasure. She leaned over him, kissing his jaw, his neck, his chest.

Slowly her mouth found its way lower. She pulled his boxers right down and tossed them away, and gazed down at him. His cock was begging for her touch, his hips flexing upwards. Bold, she leaned down and kissed the head of it, and he moaned and jerked beneath her. Then he gasped as she opened her mouth over the head, taking him in a little way and sucking gently. He allowed her ministrations for a minute, moaning softly with pleasure, and then gently drew away and sat up.

Ilsa sat too and looked at him. “Not good?” she asked, worried suddenly.

Nick shuddered. “Too good,” he murmured hoarsely, his eyes dark, and she smiled shyly.

“I don’t really know what I’m doing,” she murmured, embarrassed.

Nick smiled at her and pulled her close, hugging her, his nose in her hair. “You’re making me feel amazing is what you’re doing,” he murmured in her ear. “Everywhere you touch me feels incredible.”

She hummed a little against his neck. Suddenly she wanted him close, closer, his skin on hers. She pressed nearer and he pulled her hips to his so that she was straddling him, her knees either side of him, his erection thrusting up between them. Ilsa rocked against it, feeling it rub against her clit, and sighed with pleasure.

Nick groaned at the feel of her so close, aching for her, desperate. “Fuck, I want you so much,” he whispered. She wrapped her arms around his head and kissed him deeply.

“We have all night,” she replied when she finally pulled back. He grinned at her. “Indeed we do,” he said softly.

“Could we—?” Ilsa paused, blushing.

Nick kissed her. “Say it,” he encouraged. “Anything you want.”

“Well, and I mean this in the nicest way, but could we maybe get it over with, this first time?” she asked, smiling shyly. “My girlfriends say the first time hurts, and it’s making me a bit nervous. I kind of just want to get past that and enjoy it.”

“I was hoping not to hurt you,” he murmured with a worried frown.

She smiled. “I’m not sure it works like that,” she said. “But I’m not afraid. Let’s just...” She trailed off, shy again.

Nick nodded, and reached into his rucksack by the bed and removed a packet of condoms. Ilsa watched, shy, as he opened one and rolled it into position.

“Come here,” he said softly, kissing her again, and then she drew away and lay down and opened her arms to him.

A little awed by her faith in him, nervous himself now, Nick moved over her to lie gently between her thighs. She hooked her legs over his and wrapped her arms around him.

Nick shifted to the side a little so that he could stroke her gently with his fingers as he had done before, feeling her wetness, spreading it across her and then on himself. Then he moved back, his elbows either side of her, and rocked gently against her, rubbing his cock against her entrance. Ilsa arched her back, sighing with pleasure at his movements.

He moved forward a little, seeking her eyes with his. “Okay?”

She nodded, and he pressed forward gently, nudging the head of his erection inside her.

Ilsa’s breath caught a little and he saw the pain in her eyes and moved to pull back, but she grabbed his hips and held him in place. “No,” she whispered. “Keep going.” She pulled at him, thrusting her hips up, and he groaned as he slid in further. His cock throbbed with the pleasure of being inside her, and he had to force himself to hold still.

“More,” Ilsa whispered, suddenly enjoying the stretching sensation. The momentary flash of pain was gone, and the feeling of him inside her was amazing. He pushed closer, and she pulled, and suddenly he slid right into her and she felt her muscles clench around him. Nick groaned again. “God, Ilsa, that feels so good,” he whispered.

“For me too,” she managed.

“I’m not hurting you?”

Ilsa shook her head. “You feel amazing,” she said, her eyes bright.

He began to rock against her gently, slowly withdrawing just a little and sliding back in, doing his best to be gentle and not hurt her. Ilsa’s eyes were open but her attention was focused internally. She hadn’t expected this to feel so much better than the other things they had done together. She sighed softly with pleasure as he stroked inside her, enjoying the movement of him deep within her.

Nick gazed down at her as he moved above her, awed by how beautiful and trusting she was and by how good it felt to make love to her, so much better than it had with any other girl. Her soft sounds of pleasure heightened his own, rolling through him in waves, drawing moans of delight from him, and delicious tension was building within him. Her hands were pulling at him now, urging him harder against her, and he gladly obliged, withdrawing further and thrusting, his voice slipping into deep groans, his rhythm faltering as his self-control began to shatter.

Ilsa clung to him as his hips rocked against her, and thrilled to feel the effect she could have on him, the pleasure in his voice, the desperation in his movements. She raised her legs up over his and suddenly his thrusts were deeper and he groaned again.

Ilsa’s eyes found his suddenly, a look almost of shock in them. “Oh, God, Nick, that’s so good,” she whispered, and even as he watched, her eyes glazed over. Her head dropped back and and she gave little gasps as he thrust, clawing gently at his back, and then she gave a soft cry and curled up towards him and he felt her contact around him, tight and hot. Her reaction, the sounds she was making, the feel of her were too much for him suddenly. Pleasure engulfed him. With a gasp, he tensed and shuddered, then with a low cry he tipped over the edge, pulsing into her, his orgasm surprising him with its intensity, rolling through him.

Nick slowed gradually, still rocking against her gently, wanting to feel every last spasm of her aftershocks, and she clutched him to her as he buried his face in her neck. At last he collapsed against her, breathing hard in her ear, and they clung to one another.

Ilsa lay, holding him close, swimming in hormones and emotion and deep satiation. Eventually Nick raised his head and smiled at her and kissed her softly on her mouth, then gently along her jaw to her ear.

“I love you,” he whispered into her ear, surprising himself as much as her. But there was no hesitation from Ilsa, no shock. She clutched him fiercely to her, happiness singing through her veins. “I love you too.”

He gently withdrew and removed and wrapped the condom, dropping it to the floor in a tissue bundle to deal with later. They pulled the duvet back and climbed into bed, and Nick drew her close and wrapped her in his arms, grinning against her cheek. Ilsa sighed happily against him and laid her head on his chest, loved and satisfied and boneless.

“That was amazing,” he murmured, his voice warm and sated, and she giggled a little and nodded, humming agreement. Nick squeezed her tight and she nuzzled in to him, smelling him, listening to his breathing slowing.

She raised her head to look at him, resting her chin on his chest. “Is it always that good?” she asked shyly, her hand twining in his.

He grinned at her. “I hope so,” he said. “It’s never been so good for me before. But you’re...” He trailed off, struggling for words. “Special.”

Ilsa sighed happily and laid her head down on his chest again. She felt good. A little sore, but deeply satisfied.

“I should warn you it’s a guy thing to fall asleep, after,” Nick said sleepily, his eyes heavy, and Ilsa nodded again. Friends had told her that happened.

“Well, you know what,” she said. “I’m hungry. Let’s nap, then go cook something, and there’s a couple of beers in the fridge. You can have a food and beer break, and then maybe we could— You know, again.” She tailed off, blushing.

Nick’s arm tightened around her. “I’d like that,” he murmured. He yawned. “And then maybe we could share a shower after.”

Ilsa grinned. “Sounds perfect,” she said. She hugged him and listened to his breathing even out as he slid into sleep. She didn’t feel sleepy at all.

Nick snored softly, and Ilsa lay and wondered, thinking about everything that had happened tonight. She didn’t feel any different to how she had before. She had wondered if she might.

Her arm tightened around him. _He loves me,_ she thought, happiness fizzing through her. _He loves me._ Her heart swelled with love for him, love she had been a little worried he wouldn’t want, would scare him off. Deeply happy, she closed her eyes and breathed him.

...

Ilsa was frying eggs at the hob, two plates ready with buttered bread next to her, when Nick padded into the kitchen in T-shirt and boxers half an hour later. He slid his arms around her from behind at the stove, and she leaned her head back on his shoulder.

“Fried-egg sandwich?”

“Mm, perfect.”

“There’s tea in the pot and beer in the fridge.”

“Tea is fine.”

Nick slid his hand into her dressing gown, curious to know if she was wearing anything beneath it, delighted to find that she wasn’t. Ilsa groaned and closed her eyes as he stroked her breast.

“How long do you need before you can go again?” she murmured.

He rocked his hips, pressing his hardening cock into her bottom. “I’m good to go. You?”

Ilsa hummed a little, arching her back to press her breast into his hand. “I could be persuaded.”

His hand slid lower, easing under the belt of her dressing gown. “I bet I could persuade you.”

Ilsa giggled and gently pulled away. “I know you could. But these eggs are going to burn if you don’t stop. Let’s eat.”

He reluctantly drew his hand back. “Good plan.”

He rested his chin on her shoulder, watching her flip the eggs. “I meant it, you know.”

She twisted a little to look at him. “Meant what?”

He smiled at her, lowered his head to kiss her shoulder, then straightened up to look at her properly. “I wasn’t just saying it in the heat of the moment. I love you.” His eyes held hers, gazing at her, his heart open for her to see.

She smiled back at him softly. “I know,” she murmured. “I love you too.”

He gave her a goofy grin, and she wrinkled her nose at him fondly and turned her attention back to the eggs, lifting them out one by one to put them on the bread.

“Ketchup or brown sauce?” she asked him.

“Got to be brown sauce.”

“Weirdo,” she giggled, grabbing both from the cupboard. Grinning, Nick poured the tea into the mugs. They moved to sit at the kitchen table. Ilsa passed Nick his plate and he added a generous dollop of brown sauce to the egg before closing the sandwich. Ilsa garnished hers with ketchup.

“God, I’m hungry,” Nick said, tucking into his sandwich. He winked at her, and she blushed a little, still getting used to the fact that they were lovers now. They ate, not talking, a comfortable quiet between them.

Sandwich finished, Nick pushed his plate away and slid his chair closer to hers so he could lay an arm over her shoulders while Ilsa finished her food and they drank their tea.

“Let’s take some more tea upstairs,” Ilsa said, and he nodded. “Back in a mo,” she added, and went out into the hall. He heard the door of the downstairs loo click closed.

Nick stood and put the sandwich plates in the sink and refilled their mugs of tea. He leaned his hips against the counter, his mug cupped in his hands, waiting for her, his stomach fluttering with excitement at the thought of taking her back up to bed.

He sighed, deeply content. Images of their evening filled his mind. He’d been longing to make love to her for so long, but the reality had been even better than he could have hoped. She was open to him, trusting, shy but eager, and— He shuddered, remembering the feel of her around him, remembering her dissolving in his arms, a fierce thrill of male pride that he could do that to her, for her.

And she loved him, too. His heart swelled with joy. He hadn’t meant to blurt it out like that, had meant to pick his moment, but he was glad now that he’d said it and even happier that she’d said it back to him.

He heard the flush of the toilet, and shortly Ilsa joined him in the kitchen again. She took her tea, smiling up at him. “Ready?”

He gave her a wicked grin. “Always.” He hesitated. “Are you sure— I mean, you’re not sore?” He wasn’t sure how these things went.

She shrugged. “A bit, but I still want to.”

“Maybe I could kiss it better.”

Ilsa squeaked and went pink. “Nick!”

He grinned shamelessly. “I won’t if you don’t want me to.”

Blushing hard, she dipped her head. “No, I think— I think I might like that.”

“Let’s find out.” Smiling fondly, he took her hand in his and led her to the stairs.

 


	7. London

“What’s this about, then, Dad?” Nick asked as his father set two pints on the table between them and sat down.

“No reason. Can’t a guy take his son out for a drink now and then?”

“Yeah, but we don’t usually. Last time was—” Nick paused in horror. “Don’t tell me this is the birds and the bees conversation again, Dad. Please.”

“No! No. Er, unless you have anything you want to ask?”

Nick rolled his eyes a little. “No, Dad.”

“Thank God for that.” The older man chuckled. “You’re eighteen, son. I assume it’s too late for that talk these days.”

Nick grinned. “Way too late. But don’t tell Mum that.”

His father snorted. One side of his mouth quirked slightly.

“Well, I’m glad it’s not that again. That was excruciating.” Nick could vividly recall his fifteen-year-old self, examining every stain and scratch on the Formica surface of the little cafe table, unable to look at his father’s scarlet face, instead focusing on the incongruousness of having to listen to such things over a hot chocolate that he was rapidly wishing he hadn’t chosen.

His dad laughed. “God, wasn’t it just? That was your mother’s idea, too.”

“So there is something?”

A sigh. A pause. Nick sipped his pint and waited. Outside the pub, above the buildings opposite, a pink tinge to the sky was all that was left of the day’s light, but the fact that it was still around spoke of the approach of spring.

Eventually his father spoke, slowly. “Your mum thinks— No, _we_ think— Agh. Let me start again.”

He took a deep breath. “We like Ilsa,” he said suddenly.

“So do I,” Nick said cautiously, wondering where this was going. Especially if it wasn’t _that_ talk.

“We do, really. She’s sweet and friendly and you two seem really happy.”

Nick nodded. Another pause.

“But...?” Nick prompted.

“But nothing. She’s lovely. It’s just... Well, before she came on the scene, you always had your head in a book. I’ve never seen anyone study like you. We’re so proud of you, son, with your ambitions to get into medicine. You’re going to be a great doctor. Just...”

He trailed off, took a sip of his lager, tried again. “It’s about balance, you know? When did you last study, eh? Two weeks ago you were in Cornwall for the weekend. You spent half term there. Last weekend you worked two extra nights at the pub. I know the train tickets are expensive, but maybe Mum and I could help out a bit more with that.”

“I don’t expect you to.”

“I know, but you need to study. This weekend?”

Nick flushed a little and looked down at his pint. “Ilsa’s coming up.”

“And she’s always welcome, son, always. We like having her around. But your mum— We think maybe you’re not studying enough. Or not as much as you were, anyway.”

“I took my books to Cornwall last time.” Nick couldn’t meet his father’s clear, honest gaze. It wasn’t a lie. He had taken his books. They just hadn’t left his rucksack. On the way down he’d been too excited about seeing her again to focus. All weekend he’d been absorbed in her, spending every minute he could in her company, besotted with her. And on the train on the way back he’d dozed, exhausted, having hardly slept once Ilsa had plucked up the courage to sneak across the hall into his room at night.

He sighed. His parents had a point. They didn’t normally interfere in his life, trusting him to get on with things. But he wasn’t studying like he should be. He realised with a jolt that it was only weeks now, rather than months, until the exams. And he had to get straight As, no medical degree in the country would take him without.

Reluctantly, he nodded. “I’ll scale it back on the visits,” he said.

His father nodded too. “It’s only a few weeks. Summer’s all yours once the exams are done,” he said. “And how about you cut the pub to one night a week, and me and Mum will buy your next ticket to Cornwall.”

Nick smiled. “Thanks, Dad.”

His father nodded, satisfied. “Right,” he said. Business concluded, he reached into his coat pocket and produced a packet of cigarettes. “Not a word to your mother,” he warned, and Nick grinned. His dad had supposedly given up, blaming customers smoking in his taxi if he came home from work smelling of cigarettes.

Nick reached across to the empty adjacent table and grabbed the ashtray. He turned back and was startled to find the packet extended towards him. He was being offered a cigarette.

He hesitated, and his father laughed. “Come off it, Nick,” he said. “I’m assuming it’s not your sister who’s been pinching my fags for the last couple of years.”

Red-faced, Nick took one. “Thanks,” he muttered. “And sorry. I didn’t take many.”

“I know,” his dad replied cheerfully. “That’s why I didn’t say anything.” He winked. “And why I know you won’t tell your mother about this.”

Nick chuckled, and the two men were suddenly laughing together. They lit up and smoked and drank, and Nick pondered on the sudden shift in their relationship.

“I do understand what it’s like, you know,” his dad said after a couple of minutes. “It’s hard to fit in study and a new relationship, especially when it’s someone special. It’s distracting. When I first met your mother—” He caught Nick’s look of alarm and laughed. “Yeah, okay, we don’t need to go there. But, you know, if this is for the long haul, you and Ilsa, then you have all the time in the world. And if it isn’t, it’s not worth risking your future for.”

Nick nodded and took a last drag of his cigarette.

“Another pint?” he asked, stubbing the cigarette out in the ashtray.

“Do you know, I think I will. Not going to take the cab out tonight, it’ll be quiet.”

Nick nodded, and stood and picked up their glasses. He hesitated.

“We should do this again, Dad.”

His father gave him a warm grin. “We should, son. And when we want to, not just when your mum wants me to talk to you.”

Nick laughed and headed for the bar.

...

“Hah, so you thought it was going to be _that_ talk?”

Nick laughed. “I really did, for a minute.”

Cormoran grinned. “Talk about closing the stable door after the horse has bolted.” He took a gulp of his tea. The young men had broken out the biscuits to reward themselves for an evening spent studying at the Herberts’ kitchen table. It was relatively mild for the time of year, and the were sat on the bench in the garden. Cormoran would head home soon.

“Well, exactly. Would have been a bit pointless. I already had to sit through that one, anyway, when I was fifteen.”

“Ugh. Well I guess at least your parents were trying to be appropriate, even if that is kind of late.”

Nick shot him a sideways glance. “Wasn’t too late for me.”

Cormoran grinned and lit up a cigarette, passing the pack across. Nick hesitated a little, but took one. His dad was at work, his mum had gone to fetch Hannah from a friend’s and would be a while, and Daniel was fast asleep last time he’d checked, clutching the teddy he claimed during the day to be too big for now. He could get away with smoking and blame the smell on Cormoran if anyone asked.

“Well, anyway, Mum started wittering on about it before I even understood what she was talking about,” Cormoran went on.

Nick winced. “Ouch.” He lit his cigarette and looked round for the jam jar that served as an ashtray.

“Yeah. We were in some commune and there was all this talk of free love, sixties bullshit. She didn’t sit me down and tell me directly, but she talked quite openly in front of us. Poor Lucy was mystified.”

“I bet. How is your mum?”

Cormoran sighed. “I dunno. The baby’s pretty loud at night and she’s pretty tired. She’s very calm with him, though, and very loving. I think she’s okay.”

He scowled down at his mug. “Whittaker isn’t coping, though. After all that strutting about like a peacock when she was pregnant, going on and on about the creation of life like he was some kind of fertility god, turns out he’s shit with babies. Who’d have thought?” His voice dripped with sarcasm.

Nick snorted. “That doesn’t surprise me.”

“So, yeah, he’s out a lot. And I’m sure he’s hitting the harder drugs again. There were needles and stuff by the kettle the other day.”

“Doesn’t sound like a good idea in a house with a baby.”

“Well, no. What about when he starts crawling, and walking?”

Nick shrugged. “I guess your mum will have to deal with it. You’ll be gone by then.”

“Yeah, thank God. Can’t wait now.”

There was a pause. They sipped their tea.

“How’s Ilsa?”

Nick smiled softly. “Yeah, she’s good. She was here at the weekend.”

“You two totally loved-up now?”

“Pretty much.”

Cormoran grinned. “Good,” he said. “It’s good to see. You’re well suited.”

“Yeah.” Nick knew he had a goofy grin on his face, and he didn’t care. He couldn’t wait to get the exams out of the way and spend the summer with her. They’d have to make the most of it, because Ilsa had finally settled on Edinburgh for the course she wanted, and would be even further away come October. He idly wondered how long that train journey would take.

“Right.” Cormoran dropped his cigarette end into the jar, drained the last of his tea and stood, moving back towards the kitchen door. He set his mug down by the sink. “Let’s hope the baby’s asleep and I don’t wake him up when I go in. See you tomorrow?”

Nick nodded, and swallowed the last of his tea too. “See you tomorrow.”

 


	8. Cornwall

Ilsa’s heart sped up as she heard a tiny creak from the floorboards outside her room. By unspoken agreement, they’d not done this on the first night of a visit before, assuming her parents might be listening out more carefully.

The door opened slowly, quietly, and Nick slipped in, easing it shut behind him and then creeping across to her bed. She wriggled over and flung the duvet back for him and he climbed in next to her.

Nick pulled the duvet over them both and slid his body next to hers. Ilsa jumped, startled, at the feel of his erection pressing insistently against her through his boxer shorts. He was fully hard already.

“I thought we didn’t do the first night?” she whispered softly as he reached for her, his hand stroking up her arm and around her back.

Nick shuddered, leaning forward to bury his face in her hair. “I can’t wait any longer,” he muttered. “I’ve thought about nothing else for weeks.”

Ilsa hummed as he started to kiss her neck, rocking his hips against hers. “We’re going to have to be super quiet,” she whispered.

“I can do quiet,” he whispered back. He chuckled softly. “I’m not going to need long, I’m so horny for you.”

Ilsa giggled too and wrapped her arms around him as his hand moved to stroke her breast through her T-shirt. Her last visit to London had been one of pure frustration. Nick’s mum had put her in Nick’s room and him down on the sofa, and his dad had been working late shifts in the taxi. There was no knowing when he might come in, and with Nick’s mum getting up early for work, they hadn’t dared risk sneaking around. They’d managed a few stolen kisses here and there, and then on the last morning before Ilsa’s train things had got very heated between them, until they were interrupted by Nick’s sister popping home mid shift to fetch her forgotten purse.

“I couldn’t believe the way we got interrupted last time,” Nick murmured now, and Ilsa groaned. He’d had his hand in her knickers, his fingers deft, and she’d been so close and knew he had too, her hand clasped around his cock, working up and down. At home that night, for the first time she had allowed her own hands to really explore, so frustrated she couldn’t sleep. It was the first time she had ever given herself an orgasm, and she blushed a little in the dark now, thinking about it.

“I know,” she whispered. Bold suddenly, the dark hiding her blushes, she pressed her lips to his ear. “I had my first solo flight that night.”

Nick drew a shuddering breath and his cock pulsed against her leg at her words, fiercely aroused and full of masculine pride at the thought that it was her desperation for him that had urged her on. “Really?” he breathed back, his voice low and hoarse. “Show me.”

Ilsa squeaked with embarrassment, but he hitched himself up on his elbow, pressing her down onto the bed, his hand sliding over hers and guiding it down to her knickers. “Please,” he begged, “tell me what you did. Show me.”

Ilsa grinned, thrilling to the desperation in his voice.

“I was so horny,” she murmured. “You turned me on so much that day and I was so, so close. Another minute and I’d have come.”

“God, me too,” he groaned.

“Yeah?”

“Oh, yeah. Took me all of two minutes on my own in bed that night,” he said ruefully.

“Me too,” she whispered, and felt his hand follow hers down into her knickers. Her breath hitched sharply as her fingers ran across her swollen flesh, stroking herself, teasing circles, enjoying the raggedness of his breathing as he followed her movements almost as much as the pleasure that stormed through her.

“Fuck, Ilsa,” he muttered. “That’s so sexy. I want you so much.” His hand took over hers and massaged swift little circles and she gasped and tried half-heartedly to push him away.

He stilled and she whimpered. “No?” he asked tenderly.

“You’re going to make me come too soon,” she whispered shakily.

His fingers moved again, slower, and she gasped again and arched against him. “Maybe I want you to,” he whispered. “I love giving you pleasure, turning you on, making you come.”

Ilsa groaned and rocked against his hand. She was close already, a delicious tight ache in her groin.

“Okay, but properly,” she whispered. “I want your fingers in me.”

He groaned at that and thrust his hips against her again, rubbing his erection across her thigh. “Oh, God, Ilsa, you turn me on so much.”

He pushed her knickers down and she kicked them off and opened her legs for him eagerly. Nick stroked her gently a couple of times, and then slid two fingers into her, firm and sure, curling up into her and withdrawing and sliding again at once.

Ilsa’s breath hitched sharply and she bit back a cry of delight. There was no chance to gather her wits as his fingers crooked and slid and pressed, urging her on, and pleasure swamped her. The pads of his fingers found the perfect spot within her and she was lost, arching her back and thrusting up against his hand, chasing her release. Her panting breath filled the silence of the room, and then she gave a sharp gasp and held it as her orgasm broke and rolled through her, her muscles clutching him fiercely and her hands gripping his shoulders.

She collapsed back against the bed, and Nick drew his fingers away gently and kissed her. Even as she relaxed against him, panting, she was aware of the tension, the need, still shuddering through him.

She pushed him down onto the bed and swung herself over him to straddle him. The bed creaked and they froze, waiting. Ilsa was calmer now, listening carefully, but Nick rocked against her, desperate for her, his breathing unsteady.

Hearing no movement in the rest of the house, Ilsa relaxed a little. She pulled Nick’s boxers down and he wriggled out of them, and then he gave a low groan, a distressed sound.

“What?” she whispered.

“I left the condoms in my rucksack,” he whispered back. “Fuck. Have you got one?”

“No,” she murmured, and he groaned again in frustration. “But guess what?”

“What?”

“I went on the pill. We don’t need one.”

His eyes sought hers in the dim moonlight slanting through the window. “Really?”

She nodded. “Really.”

“Fuck,” he whispered, his eyes shining. “I’ve never—”

“Well, you’re about to,” she said softly, and positioned herself over him.

She paused, gazing into his eyes as he reached for her hips, his hands sliding around her waist, and wondered how it was even possible to love someone this much, and then she slid slowly down onto him.

Nick’s head dropped back with a long hiss of pleasure, his back arching and his hips thrusting up against her. She felt so hot around him, so close, amazingly even better than she had ever felt before, incredible. Ilsa slid all the way down, groaning under her breath as she reached the base of him, enveloping him with his cock buried deep within her.

The bed creaked a little again and they froze once more, listening. Nick was panting, his hands clutching at her waist, struggling to hold himself still, buried in her heat. Pleasure throbbed through him. Ilsa smiled down at him in the moonlight and he gazed back up at her, his eyes glassy.

“You feel amazing,” he whispered shakily. “That’s so good. Fuck—”

Ilsa nodded. He felt so good inside her, so close with no barrier between them. She rocked forward and Nick groaned a little and thrust up into her, trying to stay slow, not wanting this to be over too soon but aching for release. It felt so good, he thrust again and pleasure threatened to overwhelm him. He took a shuddering breath and held his hips still, trembling, trying to get control of himself.

Ilsa rocked forward again and Nick couldn’t resist another thrust. His cock throbbed and he groaned again and closed his eyes. He wasn’t going to last much longer. He clenched his jaw as she moved against him, his whole body drawing tight with anticipation.

Across the hall, a door opened. Rocked forward, Ilsa froze. Someone was walking down the hall to the bathroom.

“Shh,” she breathed, holding still. Nick’s eyes flew open and found hers, desperation on his face as she hovered over him. Ilsa lowered herself back down, slowly, and his gaze clouded over. She saw it, felt it. He tensed all over, and she knew his tell. He was going to come.

She leaned forward and kissed him hard, covering her mouth with his, her thighs gripping him, holding him down. She swallowed his gasp and felt him jerk beneath her as he began to climax, his hands clutching fiercely at her hips and his cock pulsing and spurting deep within her. She managed to keep him silent and largely still through his orgasm until the bathroom door clicked closed, and then she broke away to let him breathe. He gasped and shuddered against her, trembling, slowly relaxing as she buried her head next to his and hugged him close.

They lay, joined together, silent, until they heard the flush of the toilet and footsteps back along the hall. Still they waited. Ilsa realised she liked this - no having to withdraw immediately to deal with the condom. He was soft within her now and it felt somehow more intimate. She hugged him tighter and felt hot tears fill her eyes. She loved this man so much.

At long last, the house felt still and settled enough that she dared move again. She slowly slid off him, her hips stiff, and lay next to him. Nick barely moved, three quarters asleep already, his breathing soft and even, deeply relaxed.

“That was incredible,” he mumbled sleepily, and Ilsa nodded into his neck, her arms wrapped around him.

“Seriously, though,” he yawned. “You’re amazing. I’ve never felt like I do when I’m with you.”

“Me neither,” Ilsa said, grinning. Unlike him, she had nothing to compare to.

He gave a soft laugh and pulled her close.

“I love you,” she murmured into his neck.

“I love you too,” he mumbled.

“Don’t fall asleep,” she whispered anxiously. “You have to go back.”

Nick sighed. “I know. I wish I could stay.”

“Me too.” Ilsa rested her head against his shoulder and wondered how they could spend the whole night together.

“Have you ever been camping?”

...

“Corm, cup of tea,” his Aunt Joan called. Cormoran straightened up, stretching his back. He stabbed the spade into the earth and left it standing there while he came to drink his tea. The two mugs sat on the shelf just inside his uncle’s potting shed, where Ted was tending to pots of seedlings.

“Thank you,” Cormoran called to his aunt’s retreating back, and she raised a hand in acknowledgement, hurrying in to check on the dinner.

“We’re nearly done here,” his Uncle Ted said with satisfaction, looking around. “I might have to book you for this weekend every year. You can dig the vegetable plot twice as fast as I can these days.”

Cormoran wiped the sweat from his brow, smearing himself with mud, and grinned. “Always happy to come down,” he said.

They drank their tea and surveyed the garden.

“I think I’m going to put the beans over here this year,” Ted mused. “The light’s better. So that means the potatoes will have to go down this side. So we could do to make the potato mounds along there.” He pointed with his mug, and Cormoran nodded.

“No problem.”

“How’s my sister doing these days? And your baby brother?”

“Yeah, okay, I think.”

“Lucy was smitten with him when she came up.”

Cormoran smiled. “She really was. I think it made it special for her, being there when he was born.”

His uncle nodded. “Yeah. And how’s Jeff?”

Cormoran scowled. “The same. Worse. He’s injecting now, I’m pretty sure of it.”

“Oh, Corm. Is your mother?”

“No, I’m pretty sure not. She smokes a bit of weed now and then, but only when she can take the baby out to the park. She doesn’t smoke in the flat around him.”

“Well, that’s something.”

“Yeah. For now.”

“And how are you, lad?”

Cormoran looked around at the garden and their work so far. This was the question he found hardest to answer.

“I’m all right,” he said, his voice rough at the edges.

Ted sighed a little. “There’s always a room here for you, you know.”

“I know. Thank you. But I can’t switch exam boards this close to the exams. It’ll all be different.”

He hesitated. “I thought I might start coming here in the uni holidays, though, rather than London,” he said slowly. “Mostly.”

Ted put a hand on his shoulder. “Joan will be delighted,” he said. “And Lucy.”

A pause. “And so will I,” he added gruffly.

Cormoran nodded, buried his face in his mug, finished his tea.

“So, the potato mounds along there, yeah?”

“Please, lad.”

Cormoran put his empty mug down on the shelf and went to retrieve the spade.

 


	9. London

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s ~~turtles~~ angst all the way down now.

Cormoran set two pints down on the table and sat opposite his friend.

“Cheers.”

They clinked glasses and drank. Cormoran drew out a packet of cigarettes and offered Nick one.

“Thanks.” Nick passed the pack back, and the two young men lit up and smoked in silence. The pub was quiet in the early evening, just a couple of other drinkers. The weather was making most people stay indoors.

A couple of minutes passed. Nick sighed.

Cormoran grunted. “You too?”

Nick drew his mouth into a tight line. “Yeah.” He waved an arm. “After you.”

Cormoran shook his head. “I dunno. It’s just—” He trailed off, gazing out of the window at the steady drizzle. It was supposed to be spring, heading into summer - Easter was behind them now - but it had been raining nonstop for days. London was grey and washed out.

He sighed. “I’m worried about the exams,” he confessed.

“I hear ya.”

Cormoran raised an eyebrow at his friend. “You’re a brainbox. You’ll be fine.”

“Hey, back at you. Why would you be worried about the exams?”

“Because I’m trying to study round a screaming baby and constant rowing. Whittaker is being a complete wanker, spending more and more time either out or picking at Mum when he’s in, and she’s stressed so the baby just cries.” He shook his head. It was almost impossible to properly absorb anything he read with the constant high-pitched wailing of his baby brother. Half-brother.

“You could go and study in the library.”

Cormoran sighed again. “I don’t like leaving her,” he said. “She likes having me there, even if I’m just revising in a corner. Says it comforts her.” He looked away. “She cries a lot now,” he added quietly, his brows knit together with worry. He took another draught of his pint.

“Do you think she’s got postnatal depression?”

A shrug. “Dunno. How would I tell?”

“Well, if you’re worried about her, that’s probably a good indicator. Doesn’t she have, like, checkups and stuff for the baby? Must be a nurse or someone she could talk to.”

“I don’t think she’s going to many. But anyway. I’m doing what I can, trying to help with the baby, but—” Cormoran sighed again. “It’s hard. I’m just going to have to hope for good luck on the questions and that I can wing it on the day. Oxford want three As.”

Nick nodded. “All the med schools demand straight As,” he said. “I can’t afford to fuck up a single paper.”

Cormoran stubbed his cigarette out in the ashtray. “But you have a nice quiet house, surely revising isn’t an issue at yours.”

Nick shrugged. “No, but I think I’ve left it too late, mate. I’ve got too much left to do and not enough time.” He felt the familiar knot of anxiety that tightened in his stomach whenever he thought about his workload. He took a last drag on his cigarette and ground it out too.

“Well, what have you been doing?”

“Flogging up and down to Cornwall, having Ilsa here, working extra nights in the pub so I can afford all the train fares and to take her out.”

Cormoran shook his head. “She won’t expect fancy dates. She’s not like that.”

“I know, but I want to show her a good time when she’s here. Anyway, it’s the train fares that are the killer.”

“Tell me about it.”

There was a long pause. Cormoran stared out of the window again. Nick stared into his pint. He had reluctantly decided not to go to Cornwall over the Easter holidays, needing every hour of study he could get, and he was missing Ilsa desperately. She filled his dreams, with her blue-green eyes, her gentle smile, her soft curves.

“The other thing is,” Nick suddenly went on. “I was round at Rich’s the other night, studying for the physics exams. You know his older brother is at med school? He was home for the weekend.”

He picked at the edge of his beer mat. “He was warning us how hard medicine is. Like you have to do all the study, and there’s so much of it, so much to cover each year, plus you have to put in a certain number of hours a year in hospital, portering or shadowing, and then you’ve got to do a bit of voluntary extra to stand out as a candidate.”

“Sounds tough.”

“Yeah, I’m going to be stuck here in London. And Ilsa’s going to be in Edinburgh if she gets her grades. She’s going to be further away than she is now.” It was Nick’s turn to gaze out of the window at the rain, trying to conquer the nagging doubts, the fear gnawing at him. What if it all went wrong? What if he couldn’t fit everything in? What if he flunked med school? Rich’s brother had painted a picture of grammar and private school grads who’d had extra tuition and cramming. Nick was making do with the best a rough comprehensive in Hackney could offer. He was going to be behind before he started. If he even got in. He wasn’t going to be able to take chunks of time off to go to Edinburgh, and the train fares would probably be even more expensive.

“Well, you’ll have to find a way to make it work. You’ll think of something.”

“Yeah.” Nick didn’t sound convinced. He stared into his pint again. “So what are you going to do about your mum?”

Cormoran shrugged again. “Lucy’s coming for a few days, that always cheers her up,” he said. “Shanker isn’t around much at the moment, I think he thinks he’s in the way, but he pops by. He has no idea what to say about the baby, though, and it freaks him out when she’s feeding.”

Nick chortled. “I can’t imagine she’s subtle about it.”

“No,” Cormoran said darkly. He made sure he was engrossed in his studies while Leda was feeding the baby. She had a habit of wandering around with her chest exposed, collecting this and that and laughing fondly at his blushes if he accidentally saw something he didn’t want to see. “It’s perfectly natural, darling,” she would say, patting his cheek fondly while he stared resolutely over her head. It made him feel slightly queasy to think that Jeff Whittaker felt about his mother the way he felt about girls he’d slept with. He mostly managed not to think about it.

Not long now and he’d be gone. He was planning to spend chunks of the summer in Cornwall, and by early October he’d be in Oxford. Once Leda was over the birth and the feeding and was feeling stronger, it was time for him to move on and let her build this new phase of her life with her husband and baby. He felt superfluous more and more of the time these days, and Whittaker made no secret of how glad he was that Leda’s large, menacing older son was leaving soon.

Nick gave himself a mental shake. “So anyway. What else is new? Did I see you heading off with Sarah G the other day?”

Cormoran grinned. “You did.”

“And?”

Cormoran lit another cigarette, his face carefully neutral. “Perfectly nice evening.”

Nick snorted. “Not going to kiss and tell, eh?”

“Absolutely not. Or tell if I did more than kissing.” Cormoran winked.

Nick grinned. “Then I won’t ask. You seeing her again?”

“Maybe.”

Nick laughed. There was a short pause. He drained his pint and set the glass back down on the table. “Another? My round.”

Reluctantly Cormoran shook his head. “I’d better not, I promised Mum I wouldn’t be too long. And I still have loads of Shakespeare quotes to memorise.”

Nick nodded. “Chemistry for me tonight,” he said. “Probably not best done after two pints.”

“Yeah.”

The two young men stood. Nick took the glasses and set them on the bar, and they shouldered their way out onto the rainy street. Traffic swished by, and the lights from shop windows and pubs, traffic lights and cars, splintered and fractured, reflecting off rain drops and puddles.

They turned their collars up against the worst of it, shook hands and bade one another good night, then turned their separate ways, each lost in his own set of worries.

 


	10. Cornwall

The day after his last exam, Nick headed straight to Cornwall. He’d done what he could, studied every minute he could manage, and all he could do now was await the results and try not to think about what on earth he was going to do if he hadn’t achieved top grades and therefore hadn’t got into medical school. He didn’t have a fallback option. There was no plan B. He’d have to decide whether to take what he could get through clearing - and medical degrees were never available through clearing, they were always oversubscribed - or stay back a year and resit. Neither option bore thinking about. He’d never wanted to do anything except medicine, and now that he was faced with the genuine fear that he might have messed up and failed to get in, he didn’t know how to cope with the uncertainty.

As the train approached St Austell, he resolved to push the worries from his mind. Not much he could do about it now, and if he did get in, this was his last three months of relative freedom for several years. He wasn’t going to ruin it worrying, and he certainly wasn’t going to upset Ilsa by making her feel that she’d had any part to play in his unwise decisions, in him allowing himself to be swept away by his feelings for her and neglect his studies. If he had messed up, it was his own fault and no-one else’s. He just wanted to spend this time they had left, as much of it as he could, with the girl he loved before circumstances forced them apart. Every time he thought about how he might try to fit in seeing her when they were even further away from each other and he was even busier, he was filled with despair. He pushed those thoughts from his mind, too. There was only the here and now, for the next three months.

Ilsa was waiting for him, as always, and his worries melted away when he saw her, as always. She threw herself into his arms, as always. He kissed her, as always. All was right with the world. He clung to her fiercely. They hadn’t seen each other for weeks, agreeing reluctantly on the phone to let their respective exams take priority. Ilsa squeezed him, breathed him, tears of happiness on her cheeks, grabbed his face in her hands and peppered him with kisses.

“Guess what?” She tucked her arm in his as they strolled out to the car. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”

“What’s that?” He smiled down at her fondly. She was, as ever, even more beautiful than he remembered when he wasn't with her.

“We’re going camping!” she said. “I’ve booked a site down the coast a little way, borrowed a tent and some cooking gear, bought a couple of sleeping bags.”

“Camping?”

“I hope you don’t mind camping. But it’s just going to be you and me, in a tent, for days. No interruptions. No sneaking around. Five whole nights...” She winked at him.

Nick grinned a sly grin. “I like the sound of that.”

“Good, because we’re going right now. Car’s all packed.”

...

They passed hours in the tiny tent together. The nights were cold, up on a cliff top campsite on the coast, but they hunkered down in the sleeping bags that they had zipped together and enjoyed each other. Night after night, often in the afternoons as well, in one position or another, they rocked together gently, the only sounds their soft murmurs, her little breathy sighs, his ecstatic grunts. Afterwards Nick clung to her as though she were a life raft, as though they were the only two people left on earth, whispering broken words of love, fighting against the fears and worries that tried to rise up again in quiet moments.

Ilsa held him close, wondering what was troubling him that he wouldn’t say. He kept insisting that he was fine, and during the day he seemed so. But at night— She couldn’t put her finger on exactly how he was different, only that he didn’t seem his normal laid-back self. She hugged him as he lay between her thighs, soft within her but unwilling to draw away, his head on her shoulder and his face buried in her neck, and she ran her fingers through his hair and whispered her love to him, hot tears burning her eyes. She hadn’t known it was possible to love someone this much. His hands would tighten around her shoulders just a little more than usual, and he drank in every touch, every word as though he were parched.

...

When they got back to Ilsa’s house, they had apparently just missed Cormoran, who had come down for the weekend. Nick was going to travel back with him on the Monday, work a week of shifts in the pub and then either try to come back down or Ilsa would come to London. The plans weren’t firmed up yet.

“Let’s go up to the Victory after tea, see if he’s there,” Ilsa suggested, so later on they strolled though the evening sunshine, hand in hand. Ilsa’s heart swelled, feeling as though it might burst out of her chest, she loved this man so. Her body ached, but in a good way, sated and happy from almost a week in his arms. She had loved waking up together, relaxed and sleepy, warm and cosy, precious stolen moments of closeness. One morning she’d woken to find him propped up on one elbow, watching her sleep with such love in his eyes that it had brought tears to hers.

Cornwall was so beautiful on this warm evening, gold and green and gently hazy. Ilsa was sad to be leaving her home county, but excited for this next step in her life. Her hand tightened around Nick’s, squeezing his fingers, as she imagined him coming up to visit her in Edinburgh. Maybe she could spend uni holidays in London with him, get a part-time job there. The future looked bright.

Cormoran was indeed in the pub, playing pool with Dave Polworth. The two young men grinned as Nick and Ilsa arrived. Dave gave them a sly wink. “Are you two ever not together?”

Ilsa pulled a face at him. “I’ll get some drinks,” she told Nick. “Pint of your usual?”

He nodded and she withdrew her hand gently from his, digging in her bag for her purse as she moved across to the bar.

Cormoran grinned at Nick as Dave bent to take his next shot. “How was camping?”

Nick flushed a little. “Good, yeah.”

“How long did you go for?”

“Five nights.”

Dave missed his shot, and stood back to let Cormoran take his turn. “Did you actually leave the tent?” He winked.

Nick grinned. “Not much. To get food, mostly.”

“Hah! Well done, mate.” Dave elbowed him good-naturedly. “At least one of us is getting laid, hey, Diddy?”

Cormoran snorted. “Speak for yourself,” he retorted.

Dave’s eyes lit up. “Aye-aye,” he said. “Who are you shagging?”

“None of your business. Your shot.”

“Is it that Liz from Christmas?”

“No, she’s going out with Gavin now. Take your shot.”

“Louise again? Thought you only snogged her.”

Cormoran grinned, enjoying baiting him. “It’s your go.”

Muttering to himself, Dave moved around the table to eye up the potential moves. “Is it Gwenifer Arscott? I bet it is.” He chortled.

“Take your shot or you forfeit.”

Ilsa arrived back with Nick’s pint and a Southern Comfort and lemonade for herself, and watched Dave pot a couple of balls in quick succession.

“Team game after?” she suggested.

Cormoran nodded. “Unfair advantage with a lefty on your team,” he said. “You can get to all the shots between you.”

“Making excuses for losing already, Corm?” Ilsa winked at him.

“Becca!” Dave cried.

“Fuck off, Dave, I’m not telling you,” Cormoran responded mildly.

“You’re winding me up. I don’t think you’re going out with anyone.”

“Didn’t say I was.” Cormoran gave him a broad grin and took his final shot, sinking the black. “Rack ’em up again, Nick.”

Nick laughed at the two of them. “It’ll be someone in London, that’s where he spends most of his time,” he reassured Dave as he crouched to slot the coins into the tray and release the balls. He wasn’t sure if Cormoran was still seeing Sarah, or just winding his old mate up. You never could tell with Oggy.

Ilsa grinned fondly at the banter. There had long been a friendly rivalry between Cormoran and Dave, though the friendship outweighed the rivalry. She wondered what they discussed when she wasn’t present. She was sure the language would be coarser.

The four passed a pleasant evening, a couple of drinks and a few games of pool, and then said their goodbyes. Nick and Ilsa strolled slowly back to the house, where Ilsa’s mum was still awake, reading in the lounge. She smiled up at them as they came in. “Nice evening?”

Ilsa nodded, squeezing Nick’s hand. He squeezed hers back affectionately and excused himself to the loo. Ilsa plonked herself down on the chair to wait for him.

Her mother cast her a sideways glance.

“I haven’t bothered making up the spare bed,” she said, smiling. “Didn’t seem much point when you’ve just been on holiday together.”

Ilsa ducked her head a little with a shy smile.

“I can help you make the room up for him if you’d prefer, though?”

“No, that’s fine. Thanks, Mum,” Ilsa said softly.

Her mother nodded.

Ilsa went to put the kettle on, grinning to herself. She made three mugs of tea and took one to her mum, who was chatting to Nick now. Then she took hers and Nick’s to the stairs. He bade her mum goodnight and followed her.

“You’re in my room,” she whispered. “Mum said.”

Nick grinned. “Finally,” he murmured. “Now my mum will let us, too.”

They let themselves into Ilsa’s room and closed the door, and stood and looked at one another. Ilsa giggled. “After all the sneaking around, it feels kind of weird to be allowed.”

He winked at her. “We’ll still have to be quiet.”

Ilsa chuckled. “How can you still have the energy after this week?” She grinned at him over her shoulder as she put the mugs of tea on the bedside table.

He slid his arms around her from behind as she straightened up, and she hummed and leaned back against his chest. “Just being with you gives me the energy.”

He hugged her close, then gently took the hem of her jumper in his hands. “May I undress you?”

“Mm-hm.”

Lazy desire curled through her as he slowly peeled off her jumper and then her top. His hands cupped her breasts through her bra, his chin resting on her shoulder as he admired the view. Ilsa leaned back against him, her head dropping back to his shoulder as he caressed and stroked her, making her shiver.

“Come get into bed with me,” he whispered.

“Mm-hm,” she murmured again.

They climbed into bed together and he undressed her slowly. Ilsa lay back and luxuriated in his attentions. And Nick lavished every bit of his attention on her. As long as he focused on the here and now, the worries left him alone.

 


	11. London

“Nick, what are you doing?”

“Well, if you don’t know, I must have been doing it wrong so far.” His muffled voice was amused.

Ilsa squeaked as she felt him tugging at her knickers beneath her summer dress. She reached down under the covers to grab his hands. “Stop it!”

She felt him kiss his way back up her stomach until his tousled head appeared. He grinned cheekily at her. “What?”

“It’s the middle of the afternoon and your mum is downstairs, that’s what!”

Nick sighed and flopped down next to her, his head on her shoulder. “She lets us share a room now that your mum does. I think she probably knows we’re sleeping together.”

Ilsa giggled. “I know, but—”

“But what?” His hand stroked across her breast, fingers idly teasing her nipple through her dress and bra, making her rock her hips a little and whimper.

“It’s just... I don’t know, Nick. It seems wrong.” Her voice slid into a groan as he pinched her nipple gently. Desire clenched hard in her groin.

He rocked his pelvis against her hip, and she could feel how hard he was. “That’s part of the fun of it,” he murmured, and she whimpered a little again, so aroused she ached.

“Oh—” Her resolve was wavering. Maybe Nick’s mum wouldn’t hear anything. From the bedroom right above the kitchen. Nick’s hand slid back down across her stomach and delicious anticipation drew tight within her.

The doorbell rang. They heard Nick’s mum go to answer it.

He kissed her, thrusting his tongue into her mouth, his lips on hers, his hand creeping lower.

“Wait.” Ilsa put her hands on his shoulders, pushing gently. Nick gave a little moan of protest and drew back reluctantly as she wriggled to sit up.

“What?”

Ilsa had her head on one side, comically cute. “What’s that? It sounds like...a baby.”

Nick sat up. He could hear it too, the unmistakable sound of a baby crying.

“Why—?”

Ilsa got up, pulled her dress straight and padded to the door. She opened it.

“It’s Cormoran!” she said. “And he’s got Switch with him. Why? Come on.”

Nick nodded ruefully towards his bulging trousers. They’d been making out for a while. “I’ll need a couple of minutes.”

Ilsa giggled at him. “Cold shower,” she told him. “Save it for later.” She winked. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

He groaned. “You’re not helping.”

She gave a soft laugh, wrinkled her nose at him fondly and closed the door behind her. Nick heard her footsteps clatter down the stairs. He sighed and flopped back on the bed, forced himself to think about something unsexy.

Ilsa found Cormoran in the kitchen with Nick’s mum. He had parked the pushchair and picked up the crying baby, who was only yelling louder.

“What’s up with him?” Nick’s mum was asking.

“Hungry,” Cormoran said loudly above the wailing. “And I don’t know what to give him.”

“Seven months,” Mrs Herbert mused. “So he must be on some solid food. Does he take a bottle?”

Cormoran nodded. “Sometimes.”

“Must be okay with a bit of cow’s milk, then. Here.” She reached out and gently took the baby, who Cormoran relinquished with undisguised relief.

“What do you think, little man?” she asked him, cooing at him. “How about a very milky Weetabix? Or a mashed banana?”

“I don’t know when he last ate,” Cormoran added.

“Let’s start with the banana,” Mrs Herbert decided. She propped the baby on one hip and grabbed a banana from the fruit bowl and a fork from the drawer.

“Cormoran, love, have a dig in that drawer over there and see if you can find a plastic spoon,” she said. “And give it a good wash, really hot water.” She was already expertly mashing the banana onto a plate while the baby watched eagerly, fat tears on his cheeks.

Cormoran found and washed a spoon, and Mrs Herbert instructed him to sit on a dining chair. She plonked the baby on his lap and sat down in front of them. “Here,” she said soothingly, spooning the gloop.

Ilsa watched as little Switch sucked banana off the spoon ravenously. Quiet descended on the kitchen.

“Ilsa, would you have a dig in the bottom of the dresser?” Nick’s mum asked. “There should be a plastic cup in there somewhere. He’ll need a drink.”

“I don’t think he can do a cup,” Cormoran said doubtfully.

“Oh, it’ll be messy, but we’ll get some into him,” she replied cheerfully. She leaned forward and sniffed a little. “Did you bring nappies?”

“Yes, and wipes,” Cormoran replied proudly. She chuckled at him.

“Well done. Now, how about you tell me why you’ve been left with him?”

Cormoran sighed and looked away. “Mum’s...” He tailed off.

Mrs Herbert looked at him sharply. “What’s going on?”

There was a long pause. Cormoran didn’t know where to start.

“Whittaker got sacked from the record label,” he said finally. “He turned up in a huge ranting rage. God knows what he’d taken. I guess they binned him for being permanently out of it.”

He sighed again. “Mum tried to calm him down but he was in an ugly mood. Worst I’ve seen. He stormed out again and she just went after him, left the baby. I mean, she knew I was there, but...”

The banana was nearly gone. “I think we’re going to need the Weetabix as well,” Nick’s mum said. “Ah, there you are, love.”

Nick had appeared in the doorway, carefully not looking at Ilsa, who busied herself washing the cup again to hide her flushed face and cheeky grin.

Oblivious, Nick’s mum was spooning the last of the banana into the baby. Cormoran, whose sharp eyes never missed anything, glanced from Nick’s studiously innocent face to Ilsa’s pink cheeks, and a smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth.

“Nick, can you pop a Weetabix in a bowl and put lots of milk on it?” his mum asked. “It’ll need to soak for a minute.”

Nick nodded, glad of something to do to avoid having to look at his friend or his mother. “What’s going on?”

“Leda left Cormoran with the baby.”

“Well, for a bit. And then they came back.” Cormoran continued with the tale. “And Whittaker started cooking up something to inject, and Mum was shouting, and he swore at her, and a glass got broken and Switch started crying. It upsets him now, when they yell...” He sighed, his arm tightening protectively around his little brother. “I just grabbed some stuff and left. We’ve been walking around the park for a couple of hours, but I had no food or milk with me when he got hungry, and I didn’t want to go back to the flat...”

Nick’s mum shook her head just slightly, her mouth set in a thin line. “You did the right thing coming here,” she told him.

“Thank you,” he replied quietly. “Again.” She nodded.

“Right,” she went on. “Let’s get that nappy done while the Weetabix soaks.” She picked up the baby.

“Can I help?” Ilsa asked.

“Yes, come too, dear. You can distract him. It’s been a few years since I’ve done this!”

Cormoran heaved a sigh of relief as they left the room. He pulled his cigarettes from his pocket and headed for the back door.

Nick put the kettle on. “Tea?”

“God, yes, please. Extra strong.”

Nick could hear his mum cooing at little Switch in the living room. He lined up mugs and put tea bags in them, then followed his friend outside.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, actually. I mean, you know, it’s a bit shit at the flat, and I do worry about the baby. But we’ve had a nice afternoon, just me and him. I’d probably have worked out something to feed him if we were still there, but I didn’t want to go back yet.”

“Won’t your mum be worrying where he is?”

Cormoran smoked his cigarette and didn’t answer. He wasn’t sure what the answer was. His mother was very loving to her children when they were present, but also seemed able to tolerate large chunks of time without them. He and Lucy had spent months at a time at Ted and Joan’s throughout their lives. She barely saw Lucy these days.

 _Change the subject._ He cast Nick a sly glance. “Did I show up at a bad moment?” He winked, and then laughed as Nick flushed.

“A bit,” Nick admitted, chuckling himself. “It’ll keep. I wasn’t having much luck persuading her to mess around with Mum in the house anyway.”

Cormoran snorted. “I’m sure you’d have talked her into it.”

Nick grinned. “Well, now I’m on a promise, so maybe you did me a favour!”

“Hah!” Cormoran stubbed his cigarette out, dropped the butt into the jam jar and pulled out another. “I’m guessing you don’t—?”

Nick shook his head. “Not with Mum here. I’ll make the tea.”

He went back inside. Cormoran watched him go, grinning.

...

Nick’s breath came in shallow gasps, his head thrown back on the pillow, his body quivering with pleasure. Ilsa smiled softly to herself as she licked along his length gently, adoring every twitch and moan. She opened her mouth over him, and he hissed a breath in and swore a little, sending another pulse of arousal through her. She marvelled at how much she could enjoy doing this to him, for him.

She took as much of him into her mouth as she could, lowering and raising her head, starting a rhythm that soon had him rocking his hips and shuddering.

“Ilsa,” he managed. “That’s— You’re going to make me—” His voice slid into a groan as she pressed harder against him, sucking her mouth around him.

Gently she drew back, and he whimpered at the loss of her.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“God, no, I was just warning you. In case you wanted to stop,” he whispered hoarsely.

“I don’t want to stop,” she murmured.

“Then please don’t. Please don’t stop,” he begged. Ilsa took him into her mouth again and he jumped and thrust upwards, harder than she was expecting. “Sorry,” he gasped, but she sucked him harder in response, and his voice slid into a deep groan. “God, Ilsa, that’s so fucking good. Christ,” he muttered, bucking up against her now, clearly struggling to control his body’s reactions to her.

Ilsa carried on for a minute or so, enjoying his ragged, harsh breathing, and then, mischievous suddenly, drew back again. Nick moaned shakily. “Ilsa, please...” he muttered.

She gave him a tender, slightly cheeky grin, the covers bunched around her shoulders. “How close are you?” she murmured.

“God, so close. Please,” he whispered raggedly. His eyes were so dark they were almost black in the lamplight, his pupils blown, glazed with desire and pleasure.

Ilsa pressed forward, taking him into her mouth again, this time with real intent, her tongue swirling, tightening her lips around him as she resumed her rhythm. Nick jerked and gasped, his whole body tensing. There was a taut, delicious pause as he hovered on the brink, his breath caught in his chest, his body quivering, and then he cried out softly and came into her throat, cresting his orgasm, choking back grunts as he pulsed into her, his hands clutching at the covers and his hips bucking against her.

Ilsa drank him down. She had never found this as unpleasant as some of her girlfriends had implied, finding her own pleasure in doing this for him, not entirely disliking his salty taste.

Gradually he stilled, the jerking of his hips settling, his breath coming in gasps. Ilsa sat back and wiped her mouth on her hand, moved up to snuggle her face into his neck. She couldn’t quite keep the smug grin from her face. He had totally fallen apart for her. She hugged him and waited while he gathered himself back together.

“Christ, Ilsa, that was... That was incredible,” Nick managed. She raised her head to smile at him, proud. “Yeah?”

“God, yeah. Just...wow.” He shuddered, his eyes still glazed with pleasure.

Ilsa grinned at him cheekily. “Good,” she said, and settled down against his chest again.

Nick tugged his boxers back up and wrapped his arms around her. “You’re incredible.”

She giggled. “I know.”

“Give me a minute and I’ll return the favour.”

Ilsa lifted her head, rested her chin on his chest, gazing at him lovingly. “I should think so,” she said teasingly. “Fair’s fair.”

He chuckled softly at her. They lay for a while, Nick half drifting, Ilsa watching him.

“It was funny seeing Corm with the baby.”

“God, yeah. He was pretty good with him, considering.” Nick yawned.

“Yeah, bless him.”

Nick looked at her. “Do you want to have kids?”

“Yeah, I think so. I mean, I’ve not thought about it loads, but I guess I assume I will. Do you?”

He shrugged a little. “I guess. I mean, yeah. Dan’s cute, I like having a much littler brother. I could see being a dad, one day.”

“Got to get a career established first.”

“Definitely.” His hand stroked lazy circles on her back, drifting down over the T-shirt she wore to bed, stroking across her bottom.

“Have I told you you have a gorgeous arse?”

Ilsa chuckled. “Once or twice.”

He slid his hands under her knickers, cupping her bottom and drawing her close, then rolled them both so he was on top. Ilsa giggled, then sighed as he began to kiss her neck, his hand sliding up under her T-shirt, stroking across her breast.

He kissed her, his tongue exploring her mouth gently, then drew back. He grinned at her. “I have a promise to keep,” he murmured, sliding his body down hers.

 


	12. Cornwall

It had got darker earlier tonight. It was becoming noticeable. Mid August, almost two months after the solstice, and the nights were definitely shorter.

Moonlight shone in Ilsa’s window and illuminated her soft skin, gilded her fair hair silver. She was draped across him, sated and naked, breathing deeply and evenly, sound asleep. Her head rested on his chest and her hip was tucked next to his. One arm was dropped right across him, her leg hooked over one of his. She was silver and shadow, ethereal yet warm and real.

Nick held her and breathed her, his fingertips tracing gentle patterns on her back, and worried.

He had got into med school. Thank God. But it had been by the skin of his teeth. Even as he stared at his results slip, swamped with relief, scarcely able to believe it, he’d received a jovial clap on the back from Mr Carter, his physics teacher.

“Well done, Nick,” the older man had said. “But what happened with your physics?”

“What?” he’d asked, looking at the paper again in case he’d misread it.

“We get a breakdown of your individual papers. You’re jolly lucky to have got the A, you were borderline. If they’d rounded down instead of up...”

Nick shuddered a little, remembering. A couple of lost marks and he’d have lost a year retaking the exams.

“So what happened?” Mr Carter had asked him. “Before Christmas you were cruising.”

Nick had shrugged, but his face must have given him away. His teacher had snorted.

“A girl, eh? It usually is. Well, just take care at med school, mate. You won’t be able to get away with distractions and scraping by. You’ll need to pull your socks up.”

Nick had nodded, still not really taking it in, only knowing that he had got into med school, when he’d been so afraid he was going to miss the mark.

So where was the jubilation? Cormoran was delighted with his results, eager to head to Oxford as soon as he could. Nick’s parents were ecstatic. His mum cried. His dad rang everyone in the extended family. Even Hannah, waiting for her GCSE results next week, had admitted her big brother had done well. Nick just felt numb.

It was happening. He was going, in a little over a month. He’d get his confirmation and timetable soon. Ilsa had got the grades she needed for Edinburgh and was planning and starting to pack and chatting excitedly.

He sighed, and hugged her a little closer. She shifted in her sleep, nuzzling in to his chest. He kissed the top of her head, breathed the scent of her hair, and tears stung his eyes.

How was it ever going to work? He was going to be swamped with coursework, and up against other young medics from private and grammar schools, from whole families of doctors. He would need to hit the ground running and keep running. He was going to need to focus.

Ilsa would wait, if he asked her to. He knew that as a certainty, deep down. But did he have the right to? She was going to be in Edinburgh for at least four years, he in London at least five, but in reality probably way longer. Would it not be kinder, fairer to her, to let her go?

They’d been dating nine months. Did that give him the right to ask her to wait five years for him? He didn’t think he could be that selfish. But the thought of not seeing her...

_You’re not going to see her anyway,_ he told himself. _Maybe a bit in the holidays if she can come down. But she’s going to have to do the bulk of the travelling._

Ilsa muttered a little in her sleep. She wriggled away, settling down next to him, her arm still draped across him. Nick turned gently onto his side, facing her.

She was so impossibly beautiful, even more so in sleep. He traced the curve of her bottom lip lightly with his finger and she jerked her head a little, shaking him off. He smiled softly and stroked her hair, his hand sliding down her shoulder and arm and coming to rest on the curve of her hip.

His gaze drank her in shamelessly. The little freckle on the side of her neck. The silky strands of her hair, tangled across her shoulder. The pink flush still on her cheeks from their lovemaking. The swell of her breasts, the indent of her navel, the curve of her hip. He wanted to memorise every inch of her.

Hot tears filled his eyes again and he closed them, refusing to get upset. _There’s only the here and now, remember. Just enjoy every minute._

He hugged her close, his nose in her hair, and allowed his mind to drift, allowed sleep to wash over him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I’m leaving it there! We all know what happens next, and it’s in the piece after this, The End Of The Beginning, if you want to read. Then Disco 2000 (which I still vaguely yearn to rewrite) is them getting back together six years later.


End file.
